Heart of a Hero
by Rookey
Summary: With the whole world blaming him for an accident that killed thousands, Danny Fenton finds himself living day-to-day in a rather peaceful city he thought to be widely overlooked by the Justice League. But the heart of a hero knows no bounds, and Danny finds staying hidden to be much harder than he anticipated, especially when Happy Harbor isn't nearly as "overlooked" as he thought.
1. Gem of Brilliance

_Update 11/25/15: reformatting and making edits_

 _Warnings: blood, gore, loss, adult language and themes to follow_

 _Introduction (Part 1 of 1)_

* * *

Heart of a Hero

Gem of Brilliance

* * *

If I were to speak plainly with you, author to reader, preacher to choir, teacher to student, if I were to give you the God's honest truth in a short, six-word sentence I would tell you that Daniel Fenton was a good kid.

He was a very good kid. He came from a good family, had a good set of friends, and surprisingly good teacher. Danny generally stayed out of trouble—he never bothered himself or his reputation with looking for it. He was, above all else, kind in his disposition towards most others to cross his path.

Daniel Fenton had a plethora of good attributes, however it would take me far too long to list them to you, this being an introduction— and introductions by nature tend to be kept brief.

Daniel Fenton was a smart kid. He came from a smart family— his parents being renowned paranormal scientists and his sister claiming her spot as Valedictorian in her class.

Likewise, the Fenton family gift of brilliance transcended to him and Danny landed with an enormous IQ and the unconventional intelligence of his father before him.

However, Daniel Fenton had an enormous responsibility thrust upon his shoulders at the beginning of his high school career, which set him onto a path of what was ultimately self-destruction.

There was a tragic accident, and with it, everything Danny thought he knew about the life he had made for himself and the people around him had fragmented and fallen apart like broken glass falling from a shattered windowpane.

Daniel must have spent weeks in the hospital. The doctors kept coming up with problem after problem—problems they did not previously associate with electrocution.

He was finally discharged and allowed back into school, his concerned family and friends left somewhat baffled at his speedy recovery rate once outside those white walls, metal doors and IV drips.

At this point, I really see no need to go into this further—you know the story just as well as I do.

You know how Daniel Fenton fumbled his way through school while protecting the town of Amity Park, Illinois from an undead, post-conscious threat once he discovered he possessed a massive amount of power and the ability to gauge right from wrong.

You know his very best friends were at his side the whole time, his overbearing and doting sister joining them in hopes to keep the town safe from an often-unseen threat.

You know of Daniel's wrongdoings, misdoings, and _right-_ doings, and perhaps you even know of the final story to follow.

It was one mistake, really, that inadvertently caused for the mass-destruction of the town of Amity Park and many of the lives that resided there.

It wasn't a large mistake, either. It was simple, probably not even the first time this stunt has been pulled. But it happened, Daniel Fenton cheated on a test that could have decided his future, and lo and behold, it did.

But, luckily for our protagonist and the sanity of both you and me, Danny Fenton had another attribute that is worth mentioning. One that, ultimately, saved him the misery the next decade of his life would have caused.

Danny was likeable. So likeable, in fact, that he had earned the favor of an ancient, unfathomably powerful spirit the day his fate was changed forever. He received an interdimensional warning of events to come, and how to avoid the worst-case scenario.

But a simple warning wasn't enough, and Danny's whole life and everything he thought he had to live for was lost in the fire of the explosion; and he was left with nothing but a few trinkets, a family inheritance, and a massive promise to his name.

That promise— the one Danny had made to his family, his town, the spirit that helped him and himself— is what drove Danny here, almost half way across the country and away from the remains of everything he thought he knew.

As I had mentioned before, Daniel Fenton had inherited the unconventional brilliance of his father. And, like him, Danny struck one gem of brilliance for every four ideas that infiltrated his mind. Perhaps that gem of brilliance is why he ended up here, in Happy Harbor, Rhode Island, with the hope of starting a new life for himself and a way to combat the guilt that was slowly eating him alive.

* * *

A/N: Hello!

This was an intro, originally a DPxTT crossover but I liked DPxTJ better for this, so I changed it.

I am open to any and all suggestions, as this is not _nearly_ as planned out as I would like it to be.

This is pre-PP and early season 1 of YJ

Peace

-Rookey


	2. Don't Shake a Soda Bottle

Heart of a Hero

Don't Shake a Soda Bottle

* * *

 _It's a long, road_  
 _When you face the world alone_  
 _No one reaches out a hand_  
 _For you to hold_

 _Mariah Carey - "Hero"_

* * *

Danny Fenton would have woken up screaming.

He would have, I swear it, if he hadn't the sense to think ahead the night before— to cuff his arms to the bedposts and gag his mouth with some scrap fabric he had found ahead of time.

Danny had learned long ago that he couldn't sleep; not in the same way he grew so accustomed to throughout his childhood. He couldn't just lie down, take a swig of water and shut off the light—he had to work at it. Danny was forced to labor for his sleep, and even still, rest sparingly came to him. He couldn't recall the last time he had woken up without a thick sheen of cold sweat layering his forehead, his hair thrown about in a chaotic, slapdash mess, with the clothing and blankets ripped from his body and the sharp red impressions of his own nails raking down his shoulders to his abdomen.

At least the binds and the gag kept him from inadvertently destroying something and causing a disturbance with his bone-chilling screams.

You could say Danny had a severe case of night terrors or a sleeping disorder. It was what he told concerned onlookers as they observed his painful nightly endeavors every now and again. Danny claimed to be taking a medication, and every once and a while carried a small orange, white-capped bottle about to sell the idea that he was getting help.

But, if I were speaking quite frankly with you and you were just as apt to listen, I would tell you that no amount of medical help could have saved Danny's rest and prevented the state of which he woke up the morning our story begins.

There are ways to relax and sedate the mind, but there is no such treatment suitable to cure a deteriorating heart. It was all Danny could do to hope that the nightmares stay from the forefront of his mind and allow him to continue throughout his day in the robotic, monotonous way he usually does.

Until he was left alone in the dead of night, where the stars flickered dully like dying fireflies and leaving nothing but a vast black expanse in their place and he could lie alone and deal with what his life had wrought for him. It was as if the silence, the lack of daily melodrama and background noise, had shaken his bottled up emotions and removed the cap in his sleep.

And that's where the nightmares came.

Danny groaned aloud, cold sweat dripping into his eyes and down his back as he propped himself upright. His arms were twisted at uncomfortable angles as his chest heaved. He couldn't seem to get enough oxygen through his lungs and he coughed. He could still feel it, the smoke infiltrating his lungs and burning at his skin. He could still feel the combined weight of a hundred elephants sitting on his chest— if that weight were condensed into a single, baseball-sized point atop his heart that made it difficult to feel anything else.

Danny knew it was time to get up. He wouldn't be getting back to sleep anytime soon.

Concentrating, he allowed his arms to slip through the cuffs binding them to the bedposts, grateful for the umpteenth time that his body and subconscious mind had the sense to stay solid and fully tangible during his slumber.

Danny sat up fully in bed, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress and rising to his feet. Briefly, the thought crossed his mind that maybe Danny could take the day and do nothing but reminisce over the old photos he had managed to take from his old house before sprinting almost half way across the country. But he knew that he couldn't; his mind, however strong that craving of nostalgia was, couldn't take the memories and the sense of longing that accompanied them.

Danny had to act – had to take the day and make it useful. He had to keep his mind occupied and his hands moving. He had to recognize and remember that he had this same conversation with himself every morning, when the sun hadn't yet risen and when the cars on the streets below his apartment hadn't yet begun their morning commute. He had to remember that this day was nothing if not the same as any other day, and the sound of the waves crashing onto the beach outside of the apartment still sounded the same as they did the night, or morning, before.

He propelled himself to the small dresser in the corner of his room with conviction, shaking the remainder of sleep from his head with the sudden movements.

He didn't really pay attention to just what articles of clothing he had pulled from the drawers of the small, flimsy wooden dresser but he could guess they were dark in color, being that it made up the vast majority of his wardrobe.

Quite honestly, he didn't care. The only thing he cared about at this moment was the hot shower that awaited him through the solid bathroom door in the corner of his room. And, hopefully, the start of a rather not-unpleasant day ahead.

* * *

He wasn't sure how long he had spent mulling over his most trivial thoughts as the cold water ran seamlessly down his back, smoothing out the grooves and the tight beams of his corded arms and tense muscles. It could have been hours; it certainly felt like it.

Danny had always taken a liking to cold water. It seemed warm to him, it dripped down his neck in a rather unexpectedly soothing way and it seemed to wash away the fears of the night before... like how he knew a hot shower would do for anyone else. Hey, cold water saved him a hell of a lot of money on his heating bill, and it gave him some fairly entertaining looks when he ventured into Happy Harbor's local gym on occasion.

Danny stepped out of the shower, not by any sense of the word feeling like a new man, but feeling a lot cleaner and ready for whatever the hell this Monday had to throw at him.

He analyzed the outfit he had blindly picked from the dresser. It was alright, he guessed, nothing obscene or attention-grabbing, no matter what way you wanted to put it. A simple pair of worn black jeans and a gray long sleeved shirt. He pushed himself to put on the clothing and prepare for the day, despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to _not;_ to pull a reckless move and do something he hadn't done in far too long. Something so impossibly inhuman that he had no other way to describe it other than "his".

But he couldn't. Danny knew he couldn't. He couldn't fly until he deemed it okay to put his ass at risk of being found.

Which, I should unnecessarily add, he wasn't about to be "okay" with, any time soon. The risk was too high, and whether Danny wanted to admit it or not, he had enemies _far_ above his caliber and match. In other words, he was on the wanted list by those so far _beyond_ his pay grade as a small-town vigilante that it was somehow sickening yet comical at the same time to think about it.

Despite the slight prickling at the ends of his nerves; the inkling need to defy gravity against all of his logical reasoning, Danny forced himself to grab the faded purple backpack off of the armchair by his desk and sling it over his shoulder like a dumbbell.

He swung open the door of his bedroom and dragged himself listlessly through the darkened main room of his apartment, before snatching the keys off the hook by the front door and making his leave.

He locked the door behind him.

Danny shouldn't call his place of residence "his apartment," if I were speaking with any degree of honesty. It wasn't "his" to take ownership of. In fact, the roof he had over his head wasn't initially available for rent. It was quite literally a stroke of good luck and a halfway-decent Friday evening that landed him this apartment and enrollment into Happy Harbor's main public high school so soon after his arrival.

It was merely coincidence, to anyone with an outside perspective, or the work of fate that had Danny stumbling into the Nanjing Palace, late on a Friday evening about two weeks back.

It was perhaps the best luck Danny had experienced in a little over half a year that the owners of the Chinese restaurant, what he perceived as a kind yet severe old Chinese couple by the names of Wu and Mei, had taken pity on the poor, starving, ragamuffin kid that had stumbled into their restaurant with a ten dollar bill in hand, asking what he could buy with it.

They asked, first, where Danny's parents were. The question had thrown him for a loop because no one usually cared enough to ponder it. But he used his classic excuse, the one he had painstakingly practiced in front of a bathroom mirror in order to gain as much credibility for the lie as he possibly could. " _I don't know. I'm an emancipated minor, we do not communicate."_

It was always a variant of that and it was what Danny told the owners. The questions to follow were a blur of "Where's your home?", "Where do you have to stay?", "Are you in school?", and "Do you have any money?" and before Danny knew it, he was striking up a stellar deal with the both of them.

It was what led him to his situation now, as he left the relative safety of the apartment and strolled through the restaurant on the floor below.

If Danny could offer enough of his time for a part-time job as a worker at the Nanjing Palace, and spend the rest of his days in high school, Wu and Mei would allow him to rent out the unused apartment on the floor above, free of charge. His paychecks would allow him to get on his feet, Wu insisted. A diploma would help land him a job.

Naturally, Danny couldn't turn down the offer. The couple was old, maybe in their late-seventies, early-eighties. They, although fairly outspoken people and fabulous cooks, still needed help and with the economy the way it was, workers were scarce. _Skilled_ workers, with the ability to handle an overflowing restaurant without batting an eye (which Wu had been _astonished_ to see Danny do single-handedly a week ago, during a particularly jam-packed Saturday afternoon lunch-hour), were even more so.

Danny's conscious absolutely would not allow him to turn down the offer, despite the fact that he had every intention of making no ties to Happy Harbor; of in no way binding himself here or creating any traceable connections whatsoever. He didn't want to risk his identity being discovered, or, worse, Phantom accidentally being exposed to the public eye.

But, being the fact that he was now walking down 21st street, past a local bank and a closed coffee shop with a bag slung over his shoulder and the somber look of exhaustion glinting in his eyes as he trudged his way towards Happy Harbor High for his first day of school, it's safe to say that his final decision was painfully obvious.

* * *

It was a brisk morning. The sun had only just broken over the September horizon and the increasing winds echoed eerily throughout the city as Danny made his way down the sidewalk.

He, luckily, had some idea of where he was going. Danny had made a rather incognito trip to Happy Harbor High the Friday before, just to get an idea of where it was in relation to his place of residence. The school, as it turns out, was large and proud, yet somewhat hidden to the public eye, in a location that was rather difficult to gain access to unless the person already knew their way around.

It was almost purposeful in its position, and Danny had come to the conclusion that the architects had some strategy when they designed this part of town. It was a maze to navigate, all street names had neither rhyme nor reason and every block was a mishmash of confusing buildings and one-way streets, all lined with greenery that all looked the same and drenched with a rather dizzyingly optimistic aura.

It was like the school was placed, purposefully, in the hardest-to-reach area of town.

Briefly, Danny wondered why. But he didn't own a car and didn't have the money for a cab, so it held no concern to him.

By the time he had reached the school, it was a quarter after seven.

It was a fairly nice campus, with a rather large courtyard, a distinctive patch of grass and a decent-sized blacktop basketball court. Picnic tables littered the courtyard and large trees created a canopy of leaves above the common areas. Danny wondered how they got they managed to persuade the vegetation to thrive like it had.

More, he wondered if anyone appreciated it. Danny clenched his fists as his heart gave a pang. He _did_ know. He couldn't think about it.

He sucked in a breath of the crisp, humid Rhode Island air as he pushed his way through the courtyard and into the glass double doors of the school without another thought.

And, immediately, he was hit with a nearly overwhelming feeling of stress and posh superficiality. It was everywhere in this school, reeking like a physical odor down the halls and leaking through the lockers like a poisonous gas. Granted, it wasn't an actual _smell_ or an actual _feeling_ that Danny was gaining from being here; it had something to do with the familiarity of the interior and the ache of nostalgia in his gut.

Happy Harbor High School, altogether, looked rather close to Casper High. It was as if the architects had been buddies in college and did a joint project, half a country apart. It was as if his old school had been strapped to the end of a semi and hauled all the way to the east coast.

Despite the unsolicited fight or flight instinct that came to rise in Danny's mind, he fought to keep the smile off his face at the distinctive familiarity.

Perhaps today wouldn't be quite as bad as he had thought. Perhaps, even, the familiar normalcy could be a distraction from everything he had yet to come to terms with, and a way to negate the hopelessness that plagued him.

* * *

A/N: I think I forgot a disclaimer in the last chapter. If so, here it is. _Disclaimer_ : I do not own either show mentioned, nor any familiar characters, scenes, ideas, products, items, or materials of any kind. However, I do own any original characters, landmarks, ideas, concepts, and the overall plot of this fan fiction.

Thanks for reading! Please leave your comments in the reviews!

I took some liberties with the settings, hope you don't mind.

Also, please note that I haven't finished Young Justice as a series, which is why it's set in early season 1 (also it's better for the story's purposes) so I apologize in advance if I screw up a character or a description or two. Or state something that is proven to be untrue in the second season. Or make a rookie mistake (hey, hence the username, right?). Love you all!

Peace

-Rookey


	3. From the Outside Looking In

Heart of a Hero

From the Outside Looking In

* * *

 _Hello teacher tell me, what's my lesson?_  
 _Look right through me, look right through me  
_

 _Gary Jules - "Mad World."_

* * *

Danny stumbled into the main office not long after entering the school. Don't take this accomplishment lightly; it was one hell of a place to find.

Danny had guessed - or, rather, _assumed -_ that the main office would be placed strategically near the school's main entrance, as a sort-of covert advertisement for the institution. A not-so-discreet message to onlookers that the administration kept in close contact with the general student body.

Which, of course, would proclaim to the parents of incoming freshmen and transfer students that the staff cared enough about their pupils and the school's image to keep their office where it could be easily found.

But naturally, Happy Harbor High - like Casper High before it - had a rather twisted and roundabout sense of logic, and Danny found himself in the basement of the school with his nose pressed firmly against a solid hardwood door. The words "MAIN OFFICE" were scrawled onto a piece of paper that clung to the door, and it looked like a plaque had hung there before it.

He cold see the faded lines of dried out wood and the not-so-subtle holes and marks of wear-and-tear all over it and he came to the conclusion that either the plaque broke, they were getting a new one, or someone had vandalized it. Scratch that, Danny came to the conclusion that it wasn't any single factor that resulted in its condition, but in fact all three.

He didn't knock. If they had the senselessness to put their damn _main office_ in the _basement_ of their school, Danny could afford not to bother with formalities.

The door gave a rather obnoxious groan as he swung it open. Danny had just enough time to step into the office before its rusted over hinges gave a cringe-worthy moan and the door snapped shut.

The harsh-sounding slam raised the hairs on Danny's arms.

The office itself was just large enough to hold a mid-sized pickup truck, but not much else. It just barely fit the single rectangular desk that stood proudly in the middle of the room, along with the two old file holders in the back left corner.

A grad total of three doors lined either side of the small space and Danny could only guess where they led. Although it hardly mattered to him - Danny wasn't in immediate danger; therefore he wasn't in need of a hasty escape. If that were in fact the case, then I would be narrating to you a slightly different depiction of the matters at hand.

A single person sat in the long, narrow desk in the center of the room. She was an older woman – probably in her early seventies, if Danny were to guess. She was dumpy in stature and sported a head of short, curly salt-and-pepper hair. It looked as though a skunk had taken a permanent residence atop her head, and Danny had to work to keep the shit-eating grin from his face at the thought.

She was glaring at Danny with oily black eyes. They were squinty and pig-like, watery and intimidating, and they remained on him for a long while.

He disturbed the peace, after all. For all those eyes seemed to care, Danny could rot in hell for his crimes.

In all honesty, though, Danny was too distracted by the big, black mole that sat proudly like a fat, hairy hedgehog just above her eyebrow to take much notice.

By the time he took heed of her condemning eyes, it was very clear that he two would not become the best of friends.

"Um," Danny started, "Uh, is… is this the main office?" The comment was intelligent, sophisticated, just the type of first impression he was going for. Danny took a moment to scold himself for his own stupidity.

The woman raised a drawn-on eyebrow in displeasure. "Mm-hmm." The raspy noise resonated throughout the small office, and it sounded more like a complete sentence than a few nonsensical sounds.

"Well…" The air around them, humid and stuffy as it was, turned awkward and uncomfortable. Not that it wasn't already, but as the word hung in the air, Danny couldn't help but notice the sudden, imposing weight it entailed. He walked over to the front of the desk.

"Daniel Johnson," the woman, Mrs. Shander, her nametag read, spoke in a harsh, rasping voice that could have only come from years of chain smoking and bad opera singing.

"That's me."

"Here's your file," Shander slid a yellow manila folder across the counter, her hands like wrinkled prunes shaking slightly like dried up leaves in a mid-autumn wind. "Paperwork's all done," she continued, "get that form in there completed and signed by the end of tomorrow. Give it to whoever's in here."

Danny nodded silently as if this were all new information.

"That's it. Welcome to Happy Harbor High School." Her eyes set into a glare. "Scat."

Danny grabbed the folder as she waved him out of the room, and he could feel the lingering glare boring holes into his back as he exited the office.

But one thing's for sure: he made absolutely certain to slam the door behind him as loudly as he could.

* * *

He'd only really gathered a basic idea of where his classes may have been located by the time the warning bell rang for his first period class. Danny really only managed to find the exact location of his locker, by some random stroke of luck and a calculated guess.

It was on the third floor, to the immediate left of the staircase and down a rather secluded and far-away hallway on the exact opposite end of the school from nearly all of his classes.

It wasn't Danny's idea of a stellar location, nor was it the desired hot-spot for just about any student, but he could deal with it. It was better than being caught in the heat of the student body, surrounded on all sides by people and their collective body heat.

It was fine at Casper, the heat that radiated off the humans around him had been a mild irritant and nothing more. However, Happy Harbor High was at least four times the size of his old school and Danny wasn't so sure he could have handled it.

At least here, on the top floor of the school, enclosed in a narrow hallway near the rafters of the building where the spiders made their homes and the only single window on the wall just opposite of his locker created a much-appreciated draft, he found himself alone in the cold. Danny was thankful for it.

Throwing his locker door shut after unloading the main bulk of his backpack, he slung the bag over his shoulder and made his way to the first floor.

Advanced Placement Psychology. Danny wasn't sure why the hell he signed up for it. He must have felt a need to challenge himself when he was signing up for his classes or something. It might have reminded him of someone he once heald close to him.

He felt a _pang_ in his gut and Danny grit his teeth. A chill swept over his form and he shook his head. Danny couldn't think about it, not right now.

Whatever reason he had behind his choice, it was his first period class.

Well, it would have been, if he could find the damn place. Danny knew it was on the first floor, having wondered about the school already trying to find both the office and his locker, but saying "the first floor" wasn't saying much.

It was like narrowing down the United States to "just Texas," despite the fact that Texas is a huge state comprised of thousands of cities and towns and millions of people. It was like trying to find one small city using nothing other than that methodology.

The halls were crowded now. Students shoved and pushed each other, spoke in roaring voices like rabid fans at concerts, and made out where everyone could see them. It almost made Danny shudder. Had Casper High really been like this? Had he spent so much time away from people his own age that things that used to be as normal to him as breathing seemed alien and bizarre?

Had people his own age always been this naive to the dangers of the world around them? Have they always been too absorbed in their own lives to realize that everything they thought they knew was in fact so fragile? Was Danny like this, when he believed that some things lasted forever and the world was inherently good?

Now that he saw it happening around him, from the outside looking in, that innate adolescent naïvety that spread like the plague from person to person and group to group had him feeling genuinely afraid.

Danny had almost passed his destination by the time his mind wondered back to reality. He found himself standing in front of room 127, at the end of a long cinderblock hall lined with bright-colored lockers and melodramatic teenagers.

He took a breath and opened the door as the final bell rang through the air.

Danny wasn't sure what he expected when he opened it. In fact, he didn't know at all, but he should have given it a pretty damn good guess.

It was a large room with hardwood floors. It looked like a ballet-studio-turned-classroom, with a wall of mirrors facing the class and a single railing stretching the length of the mirror. The room was larger than Danny had expected, and he immediately took note of the windowless cinderblock walls and the three doors scattered about the room; the one he was standing in, the one just opposite of him, and the one behind the teacher's desk.

There was a fairly decent-sized air vent above the old-school projector in the front left-hand corner of the room and another one on the floor near where he was standing - he could feel clammy, chilled the air hitting his face. There were about twenty-three kids in the room, and no teacher as of yet. Their desks were bulky, probably hard to lift and even harder to throw.

Danny then began to size up the students that littered the room as he took a seat in the far corner. It was in the back, therefore he had a great view of everyone in the class and no need to watch his own backside.

 _These student's couldn't possibly throw these kinds of desks,_ Danny thought as he pretended to not notice the stares being cast his way. _They're mostly thin, maybe a little scrawny, looks like all the band geeks signed up for the same class._

There were one or two noteworthy students, however. One was a football player that he immediately dismissed - he could see the inexperience in combat radiating off the burnet in the center of the room in waves. He was no threat.

The other was a girl, in the farthest row of desks from where Danny sat. She looked tall, with Caucasian skin and flaming red hair. Danny closed his eyes took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling that painful _pang_ in his heart again. It was hard not to see their faces everywhere he looked, hard not to be reminded of them in every waking moment. But he couldn't think about it. Not now.

Danny opened his eyes and finished assessing the achingly familiar girl's form, albeit with a little more reluctance.

To say she looked athletic was an understatement. The girl held herself with an air of confidence rarely seen on both teenagers and adults alike.

Overall, she didn't _look_ like a threat.

But neither did Danny.

Alarm bells going off in his head, Danny was sure to keep the girl in his sights as the class began.

Danny vaguely wondered when he had developed this habit. Sizing up a room; looking for possible escape routs, analyzing possible weapons, and attempting to gain the upper hand in a possible confrontation by seeking out the most battle-ready spot in the room.

Not to mention the occupants - he tended to analyze them closely: he watched for big frames, bulging muscles, long legs, narrowed and suspicious eyes, tensed, purposeful movements, confidence, and fast reaction times to the slightest out-of-the-ordinary stimuli. These were all signs of a possible trap, an imposing battle he had to be ready for at all times.

It was a practical habit, even if it was paranoia-induced. But Danny's only question was _when_ he developed said habit: before the _Incident_ or after. Or, rather, when he hunted ghosts for the sake of saving humans or when he started running from both, along with everything beyond and in-between.

 _Knock it the hell off,_ Danny suddenly berated himself, _you're not a_ _psychoanalyst, stop acting like one. That's Jazz's job._

Danny's thoughts stopped dead for a moment as it happened again, for the _third_ time in ten minutes. That heart-wrenching, stomach dropping _pang_ in his chest. It felt as though Danny had jumped from the top of the Empire State Building with no areal power to save him. He clenched his fists tightly in his pockets.

 _Was._ Danny's brain corrected somberly, _I_ _t_ was _her job._

His knuckles turned white.

At that moment, the door behind the teacher's desk swung open and revealed a young, small blonde women with her arms full of papers. A large, quilted bag hung from her shoulder as if it weighed more than she did. The woman graciously swept into the room - if by "graciously" you mean pushing her way through the threshold and kicking the door closed behind her, then _graciously_ \- and shot an award-winning smile at her students.

The woman dropped the abundance of paper in her arms onto her desk and slipped the bag onto the floor. She walked around to the front of the class and offered them a amiable wave. She pushed her red cat-eye glasses up the bridge of her nose and Danny wondered how she could possibly be so chirper this early in the morning.

"Happy Monday, class!" She said with a light, nasal voice that Danny knew he would grow tired of sooner rather than later.

Upon hearing the teacher's joyful introduction to the morning, the class as a whole moaned harmoniously, with various notes of swearing and growling heard somewhere within the midst noise.

"Oh, c'mon!" The teacher complained, "You've got to at least _pretend_ to be more excited than that, especially because we have a new student today!"

If Danny hadn't noticed the intensity of the staring before, he certainly felt it _now._ Danny knew this was coming, but that didn't mean he dreaded the inevitable attention any less.

Hoping he looked more confident than he felt, Danny nodded his head at the strange stares shot his way and held up a peace sign. He was normally never that cocky, to assume a hand gesture and a simple nod of the head was enough to make his presence known, as if no words warranted his unquestionable appearance.

Danny never thought he would have formed a habit of it, but he did and the reasons behind it dated back to a single dark-haired girl who believed her presence gave no merit for words and her existence in a room was simply indisputable. He felt another _pang_ in his gut at the thought and withdrew his hand, sliding it back into his pocket as if to hide the way it trembled.

He missed the way the redheaded girl began to stare at him, nearly boring holes into the side of his head.

The teacher, with borderline sympathetic eyes trained on Danny like he were a foreign animal, introduced herself to him: "I'm Ms. Connelly, and welcome to Advanced Placement Psychology! Now, please, why don't you stand and tell us your name, where you're from, and two things you like to do." Ms. Connelly's smile only grew larger at the smoldering glare Danny shot her way. "Don't worry about it, I make sure to do this to all of my students at the beginning of the year."

 _But this isn't the beginning of the year,_ Danny thought with a scowl. Fine. Whatever. He remembered Lancer doing this to the new students too, the ones whose families moved to Amity Park back when it first became nationally renowned for being haunted.

Danny didn't stand. He just remained seated, slumped over as if the weight of the Monday morning was the only thing dragging him to the floor. "Um..." He started, his voice giving off what he was sure sounded fairly close to an atypical "whatever" tone. The famous "teenager-y voice" people his age had been known to use, accompanied with a roll of the eyes and a standard hand-wave "whatever."

"My name's Danny Johnson. I transferred from Overland High in California." It wasn't a lie - his most recent high school enrolement took place several months ago in California, at Overland High. Sure he was only there for a little under a week and those few days had _not_ been pleasant (he _did_ flee to Rhode Island and, for those likeminded of Danny and therefore bad at geography, Rhode Island and California are set a _literal_ nation apart), but nevertheless, it was true.

"I like astronomy," Danny continued. "And..." He thought for a moment before saying, with the slightest smile playing across his lips, "... traveling."

"Well then, welcome to Happy Harbor High, Danny Johnson from Overland High in California, who likes astronomy and traveling," Ms. Connelly greeted in a faux formal tone. But despite it, Danny didn't miss it. It was a slight change in the teacher's demeanor, a narrowing of the eyes, a stiffness of the shoulders, a straightening of the back, that led Danny to believe that this teacher, for whatever reason, didn't believe him about _something_.

Oh well, Danny thought. So far as he was concerned, she could believe anything she wanted. Danny had the forms, all backing his story and solidifying his "origins." He didn't know why she cared, anyway.

Connelly addressed the rest of the class, turning her scrutinizing eyes away from Danny and giving the redheaded girl Danny had almost _wanted_ _to_ recognize a sidelong, meaningful yet nonsensical glance, addressed the rest of the class. "I'm sure we will _all_ make you feel right at _home_."

Danny wanted to snort as his hands began to tremble and a smoldering chill ran down his back - a feeling less than pleasant for someone less than human.

He felt a _pang_ in his gut as a thought filtered through his mind.

 _As if._

* * *

A/N: Hi, I'm back. Thank you guys for the enormous response, you're all so great. I love you all. So I'm still developing a plot for this story and I don't know how far I'm getting at this point. Any concept or plot suggestions or anything you'd like to see would be very helpful to me and I would love to hear whatever you have to say. Thanks!

Sorry for any mistakes. I self-beta. Oh, and like with anything else I write, I'm taking my time with this. Rome wasn't built in a day. Or maybe it was. But this isn't Rome. Lol.

Please share your thoughts, questions, comments, concerns, exclamations, annotations, opinions, impressions, theories, judgements, and just about anything else you can think of. I wold love to hear all of it. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW  
Thank you!

\- Rookey


	4. Don't Sign a Treaty in a Bathroom

Heart of a Hero

Don't Sign a Treaty in a Bathroom

* * *

 _Your head is filled with unproven thoughts_  
 _Twisting theories into bigger knots_  
 _And I feel you dreaming_  
 _You're done believing_

 _Bad Suns - "Pretend"_

* * *

Danny didn't realize he had stopped paying attention until his name was being called.

His head jerked up as the name "Danny" rang through the classroom. By now, the students were working on an assignment of some sort and talking to their peers almost blissfully as the Monday morning ticked on. There was little haste in their performances. There was no air of hurriedness as they scrambled to spit information onto a page. It was rather quiet for a class of thirty-some kids, to say the least.

Danny swept up from his chair and made his way to the front of the room. "Yes, Ms. Connelly?" He asked politely, knowing she'd want to talk to him eventually about catching up with the class.

"I just wanted to tell you again, welcome to Happy Harbor High!" Connelly smiled brightly. Danny wondered how much coffee she had to drink that morning. "Right now, we're just finishing up with our Subconscious Unit. But we've got a lot done already."

Danny nodded silently as Connelly brought forth a thick packet from behind her desk. It looked more like a bland magazine than anything else, let alone a few _school papers._ Danny felt the blood fall from his face. Did he have to _do_ all of that?

"This is what we've covered so far this year." She handed the book-like stack of paper to him. "Well, anything important. That's about it. A lot of these pages are instructions," she smirked as Danny relaxed. "That being said, you think you'll be able to have this done by next Monday?"

Danny nodded, feeling more sure of himself now that he knew he didn't have to do _all_ of it. "I'll have it done. Will you be available for help any time this week?"

Connelly's face broke into a smile. A _bigger_ one. Apparently her students didn't often take an interest in psychology. "Just shoot me an email, we'll work something out. There are also a variety of students in this class that I'm sure would be _more_ than willing to help." She nodded to someone behind Danny, and he turned around to look, trying to suppress the sudden adrenaline pumping through his veins. _Stupid paranoia, I swear..._.

It was that redheaded girl, staring at him. Again. He wondered if her unwavering gaze had ever left him since he entered the classroom. Danny's anxiety spiked, but he mustered his energy in a bout of sass and shot her a two-fingered salute before turning back to Connelly. "Gotcha." He said monotonously.

The teacher's big, hazel-colored eyes grew wide as she seemed to remember something. "Oh! I need to give you the class syllabus before I set you out on your own." She then drew out a flimsy blue manila folder from her desk and shifted through it.

She handed Danny a single piece of white paper. "I just need you to sign this and have it back to me by next class. Don't worry about getting a parent's signature." Danny raised an eyebrow, a silent question forming at his lips. Connelly's expression softened as she began again in a quieter voice. "The school didn't tell us much about your… _situation_ — just the bare bones, hon. Nothing is about to get out, Danno, unless you tell us otherwise."

Danny resisted the urge to cringe at the nickname, as he felt another _pang_ in his gut. The kind of _pang_ that makes your stomach drop to your shoes.

The only person who ever called him _Danno_ was his father.

His balled fists grew cold and clammy in his pockets.

"Thank you, Ms. Connelly." Danny muttered. He meant it. He didn't quite know why, but he was grateful to this woman.

"Anytime, Danny. And please, call me Ms. C." Connelly gave him another kind smile as he walked back to his seat in the far corner of the room.

The rest of class followed without a hitch. Danny worked on his assignment monotonously as Dumpty Humpty tore through his headphones—those roaring guitar solos and the cringe-worthy singing of band members somehow relaxing him into a rhythm of schoolwork.

The others around him, however, were not so repetitious in their actions. They were loud, at least to him, as first period progressed. Papers scattered about on the ground around him as their voices grew more and more thunderous with every passing minute.

He got farther than he anticipated he would in that monstrous packet. Turns out, having a psychoanalyst as a sister really _did_ pay off. He knew most of this stuff about as well as he knew the back of his hand. By the time the bell signaling the end of his first period class rang, he was already about halfway done with the entire thing—not an easy feat considering it was four months worth of college-level material.

Danny swept up from his seat and grabbed his bags in one fluid motion as the bell's harsh cry tore through the air. His movements were slow and effortless as he trailed behind the wave of teenagers exiting the classroom and into the hall.

* * *

The general roar of the student body grew in volume as he joined the main flow of teenagers in the hallway to his next class. The noise made him wince. It wasn't _nearly_ this bad at Casper High—the sound was bearable there. The halls were more crowded here, the students louder, and it made his sensitive ears throb painfully at the sound. Danny needed to make an investment in earplugs if it was going to be like this all the time.

Danny glanced at his map. _Biology 3_ _, room 215._ Second floor. It was an odd number, so on the right side. Danny pivoted around on his heel to take that flight of stairs he passed not too long ago.

It would have been a fluid turn. It would have been smooth, it would have been quiet, and it wouldn't have called attention to the new kid if he didn't run headlong into another student.

Another student that, upon further inspection, was about twice Danny's size and as red in the face as a traffic light as coffee dripped down the front of his red letterman jacket.

Danny cursed the reverberating roar of noise in the hall—and his own lapse of attention.

Danny had to remind himself he wasn't in Casper High anymore. It took him far longer than it should have to realize this _wasn't_ Dash Baxter, the renowned bully from his old school. Although they looked similar—same broad shoulders and all-encompassing frame. They had the same blond hair and deep blue eyes set deep under low brows beneath a wide forehead. High cheekbones made them both look not dissimilar to blond, European gorillas…

It was that thought that snapped Danny out of his ravine. His eyes widened as they shot up to meet the other boy's, whose expression changed from incomprehensible rage as hot brown liquid dripped steady down his front to absolute shock in the time it took for it to dawn on Danny that this _wasn't_ just any other student.

The jock's mouth opened and closed a few times, like a fish out of water. His eyes were wide and he didn't dare move. Time seemed to freeze.

Then everything happened all at once.

"Fent—"

Before he knew what he was doing, Danny had all but flown at Dash Baxter, covering his mouth and cutting off whatever he was about to say.

"We need to talk," Danny muttered, thanking whatever god looked out for half-breeds like him that the halls were damn near empty by now as the five minute passing period came to an end. _"Now."_

There was no indication that Danny even said that last word out loud, that his mouth didn't just form the words without audible sound but it didn't matter. Dash nodded anyway—a curt, sharp movement. Without drawing his hand from Dash's mouth, Danny led them to the nearest bathroom, praying it was empty as the late bell tore through the air.

He kicked open the door and the automatic light flicked on. _It's empty,_ Danny thought, a slight sense of relief washing over him in that moment.

He kicked the door closed and the second it latched back into place; Danny shoved Dash away from him.

 _"_ _What_ are you doing here, Baxter?" Danny demanded, his eyes beginning to feel dry and tingly—the telltale signs that they were damn near close to changing color. Danny blinked rapidly to push back the ectoplasm. It was a nifty trick he learned just after his first year of acquiring ghost powers. All he had to do to prevent the color change was a couple of deep, controlled breaths and some rapid blinking. Boom, he's golden.

"I could ask you the same thing, Fentina!" Dash's nasal voice sounded just how Danny remembered it. It was a sound he hoped he'd never have to hear again.

The nickname hurt like hell. It didn't use to before but for some reason it did now. Danny wanted to snap at the boy, but he remembered he had a persona to keep afloat. Whether Phantom was around at the moment or not, Danny Fenton had to stay Danny Fenton, or whoever he was at the time.

But then Danny realized something. He wasn't sure how he knew; maybe it was in the way he could see Dash Baxter trembling in front of him—white as a sheet, as if he'd seen a ghost. Well, _another_ ghost. His pig eyes were wide in shock and his shoulders were slumped forward in a shocking display of insecurity.

But Dash _knew,_ somehow, that this wasn't the same happy-go-lucky Danny Fenton he used to pick on in grade school. This was someone else entirely. This was someone who raised flags in the more primal and instinctual areas of Dash Baxter's brain.

By the look in Danny's bright blue eyes, Dash knew this wasn't someone to shove in a locker anymore. This was someone to be feared. The blond hated the thought, but he couldn't keep his hands from shaking.

Danny sighed. Loudly. Loud enough so that Dash could hear him. " _You_ want answers, _I_ want answers, seems like we can help each other out. _Why_ are you here?"

Dash swallowed nervously. But he straightened up and cleared his throat, falsifying an image of confidence as he began to speak. "A-after the ex—" Dash paused hesitantly, noticing Danny's wince. "After _it_ happened," he corrected, "N-no one in back in Amity felt safe anymore. Half of the city was destroyed, man, no one wanted to stay after that." He stopped for a moment, before he continued. "I mean, I know Phantom keeps everyone safe—he's a super hero!" Danny bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from scoffing. "But no one things so anymore. The police don't think so... the government doesn't think so... even the _Justice League_ doesn't think so! And- and then he disappeared! After it happened, he was just gone! T-then…" Dash grimaced. His voice dropped drastically. It sounded broken. Guilty. "You were gone, too. And he was gone. Both of you! With everyone being... _gone_... we didn't know _what_ to think."

Dash let the statement hang in the air. It took Danny a moment before he realized it Dash was waiting for a response. It was his turn to speak. So, he did, in a low and quiet tone. It shook slightly, as if the gravity of his words had a physical mass that weighed on his shoulders. "They think it's his fault, don't they." It wasn't a question.

Dash took a breath. "I hate it, man. Seriously." He grimaced, shanking his head. "But everyone does. We thought Phantom took you, too. No one felt safe. Sure the ghost attacks stopped, but people... anyone that was still..." Dash struggled to get the next word out. And Danny struggled equally as much to hear it. "Still... _alive..._ still left."

"Where did everyone go?" Danny asked. Dash's words hit him like knives—harder than any of his verbal abuse ever used in the past. Danny was supposed to be a _hero._ He was supposed to _protect_ Amity Park. Danny opened the portal—the attacks were _his_ fault. _He_ was the one that was supposed to make his home _safe_ again.

And here, standing in front of him, uprooted from his life in Amity Park and all those friends he gathered like rocks in a collection, along with his gorgeous girlfriend and tens of football scholarships with the best team in the region, was physical _proof_ that Danny didn't do his one goddamn job right. _He_ _failed._ He didn't just fail, though. It was more than failing. It was a colossal disaster he wasn't nearly ready to come to terms with. The deaths of six people - his _family,_ sure - he could deal with. He could get over it. It would be a long, hard road, but he would do it. Danny _could_ do it.

But the deaths of almost half the population of an entire _city?_ He couldn't deal with that. Couldn't live with it.

Amity Park wasn't a huge city, but it had definitely expanded since it received its rep as the most haunted town in the nation. It was originally a small town stretched across one side of a river that fed directly from Lake Eerie, which was only an hour's drive away. It was about fifteen stop-lights total, and people liked it that way. Then, when the ghosts started showing up, the city stretched onto both sides of the river - both connected by a bridge known as " _Saint Elms Bridge"_. It separated what people knew as the "East" side of Amity Park and the "West." Or, rather, the new, urbanized part and the old, residential part, respectively.

The Nasty Catastrophe (as it has been dubbed by just about every news channel around the country), not only took out the Nasty Burger and the surrounding buildings, but nearly the _entire_ _East Side of Amity Park._ Thousands of people lived, worked, and thrived in that side of town, and it was only out of some sick stroke of luck that Dash and his friends survived at all - _Casper High_ was located in the East.

Danny didn't remember what time that fateful event took place, but now he knew it must have at least been after school _._

"Kwan moved to Nebraska." Dash muttered. He wasn't looking at Danny anymore. His eyes were downcast and dark shadows brought out the high cheekbones that Danny used to envy in middle school, the ones that drew (primarily female) attention to Dash Baxter as being one of the more attractive high school juniors. You know, back when things like that mattered to Danny. Back when he cared for his outward appearance. Back when a zit on his forehead was the worst of Danny's concerns.

"His dad picked up a teaching job at St. Marlotts University. Kwan gets in for free, now. Better for him, I guess. Paulina moved to Cancún in Mexico. Apparently her aunt owns a hotel there or something. One of those nice ones on the beach. Big tourist spot, you know. Rolls in a lot of cash - I guess that's her thing." Danny listened silently. The longer he could keep Dash talking, the easier it would be for him to come up with a story.

"Starr's grandparents live just outside of Amity Park. Chicago, I think. I guess her and her parents invested too much into Amity to kiss the place goodbye. They're waiting 'till everything dies out, I guess." Danny winced.

It's been a while since the event—six months, almost exactly. He didn't know why little words like "dying out" still affected him so badly. He couldn't deal with this now. So Danny did what he'd grown so accustomed to doing over the course of those months: bottling up those emotions and locking them inside a safe not even _he_ knew the combination to.

"Then there's you," Danny spoke softly.

"Then there's me." The other boy shrugged. "Parent's didn't want anything to do with that town anymore. Figured Rhode Island'd be a fresh start, I guess. At the base of Mount Justice, right? Supposed to be one of the safest places in the country."

"Why would you think this place would be safe?" Danny snapped suddenly. "Nowhere's safe, Dash. _Not one place on this planet is safe."_

Danny had his own reasons for being here, otherwise he wouldn't be caught dead at the base of _Mount Freaking Justice._ Danny had a ghostly obsession to fill - and it wasn't going to allow him to rest until the city he took residence in was completely safe. Being here, in a peaceful city in plain sight, practically overlooked by the Justice League because of the psychological power Mount Justice held over the people, allowed Danny to fulfill his obsession for protecting people undercover. He could keep a low profile - he didn't even have to go ghost.

It was a win-win, really. He'd fight some muggers and thieves, easy pickings, and keep the people safe. He'd fulfill his purpose while still being able to hide. He didn't have to worry about the pesky Leaguers that wanted his head for the tragedy in Amity Park because they already _knew_ this city was safe. Why would you look for a "hero" in a tranquil town? And a _famous_ one, at that? The GIW wouldn't think Danny would be so stupid as to hide here, and Vlad wouldn't look somewhere so high-profile for a runaway half-ghost criminal. In Danny's mind, it was obvious to the point that no one would ever _think_ to guess his whereabouts being here.

And the last thing, the very _last thing,_ Danny needed was a dunderhead like the one in front of him causing problems and accidentally knowing too much for his own good. Dash Baxter did _not_ need to be here. Not now. Not while Danny was here, and not while everything was going on.

Plus, Danny didn't need another reminder of what he had done.

"What's it to _you?_ " Dash snapped. His expression melted into a scowl. "If you're so _concerned_ about _safety,"_ He practically spat the words in Danny's face, "Then why are _you_ here?"

Dash shook his head. When he spoke next, the words were more genuine. More sincere. "Why _are_ you here, Fenton? People are worried about you. Valerie just about had a meltdown when she found out you were gone. People are starting to think you're dead. Or that… you know…" Dash shook his head. "Phantom pulled something. And I know he wouldn't. He didn't. But that's what people think. I mean, he _didn't._ " Dash's eyes snapped to Danny's face. "...Did he?"

Danny took a breath. He inhaled deeply. For some reason, he felt a _pang_ in his gut. It wasn't the kind he normally got, when he was reminded of his family and friends and town and everything he lost. It was something else entirely. It was the kind of _pang_ someone got when they were completely alone, and the hope of a possible ally dropped in front of him - like he were a starving kid with a plate of stake not three feet away. He just had to reach for it.

Plus, what else was Danny going to do? Dash was here now. If Danny didn't handle this situation _just right,_ if he didn't say just _the right_ thing, everything he's been working towards would be ruined. Dash would do it, he would call Vlad Masters. He would see those missing person's flyers hanging about and do what he was legally obligated to do. _Dash Baxter_ would be Danny's downfall if he didn't handle this situation _just right._

Danny scanned around the bathroom. He allowed his sensitive hearing to expand outward, listening for eavesdroppers and watching for the possible presence of video cameras.

He let a small smile meander across his lips. _All clear._

"Listen, Dash." Danny started quietly. "There's... there's something I think you need to know." Danny could feel a weightlessness in his stomach. It was like he was flying in the upper regions of the atmosphere. Except, this time, he felt as though he were actually risking the fall.

"I'm not here because I was _abducted,_ Dash. Phantom had nothing to do with it - I have _no_ idea what happened to him." Danny sighed before he continued, "I kind of... I _need_ to be here."

It was like Dash sensed something in Danny's voice - like a new note of ernest sincerity Danny hardly ever expressed in all the time the jock had known him. With some hesitance, Dash ventured to take a step the conversation a step further. "Why?"

"Why shouldn't you tell whoever the hell is after me where I am?" Danny scoffed. "I get it. You don't have to ask. Dash, there... there are _people_ after me." Danny cut Dash off as he opened his mouth. "A lot of people. It's _complicated_ , but I need you to trust me. It's a delicate situation. My parents..." Danny clenched his fists. "My parents _were_ ghost hunters."

Danny met Dash's eyes. He spoke slowly, articulating every word. " _I_ was a ghost hunter. I hate to say it, Dash, but I was a _good_ one. Me, Sam, and Tucker. We kept it quiet, though, never told anybody. You see what that did?" Danny gestured with his hands to the empty bathroom around them, in Rhode Island, to the two kids displaced from their homes after a terrible tragedy.

"I don't understand." Dash said.

"You _wouldn't_ understand, Dash, that's the thing." Danny sighed. "I've got my own reasons for doing things. Just... can I just-"

"It's fine." Dash cut him off suddenly. "I get it." His eyebrows pushed together. "Actually I don't. Doesn't matter. I got your back, Fenton."

That caught Danny off guard. He wasn't expecting Dash to give in like that. Danny expected at least a solid fifteen more minutes of coaxing the other boy into keeping his mouth shut.

"I mean... I know you lost a lot, Fentonio. I want to try to help. Just let me know if... you need anything. Got it, kid?"

Danny cracked a smile. "Yeah, Dash. Thanks. And it's Danny- um, Johnson. Danny Johnson."

Dash barked a laugh. "Johnson?! You always _were_ creative, weren't you?"

"You could say that," Danny tried to laugh, but it didn't come out right. Laughing was harder now then it was a year ago.

"I would say get to class, but you don't really like showing up anyway," Dash snorted. "Not that I blame you."

Danny smirked in return. "If they're gonna keep me here for eight hours a day, I might as well give 'em a hell of a time doing it."

Dash just laughed loudly as he slid the backpack he had dropped onto the bathroom floor back onto his shoulders as the two walked out the bathroom door.

"Thanks again, Dash." Danny said as he began walking in the direction of the stairs.

"Any time, _Johnson._ " Dash rolled his eyes at the name. "And, dude," Dash started. Danny turned to him. "It's good... it's good to see you."

Danny cracked a rare smile. "You too, Dash."

The half-ghost sighed as the other boy walked in the opposite direction before venturing to catch the rest of his second period class. He didn't know what he was going to do now. He didn't know what this _meant._ Crossing paths with Dash Baxter like this wasn't meaningless. It had a higher purpose, and Danny _knew_ it.

Somehow, somewhere in his gut, deep in his bones and filed away in the deeper and more secluded areas of his brain, Danny knew this would only be the first in a series of many "meaningless" coincidences to come.

Thing is, Danny didn't believe in _coincidences._

And in his life, nothing was _meaningless._

* * *

A/N: Wow, this turned out longer than I thought it would. Whoops. Thank you to anyone who's reviewed/followed/favorited, I love you all! Have to say, wasn't originally planning on bringing in many people from Danny Phantom but the last part of this chapter just wrote itself. I lost control. But don't worry, it seems to know where it's going.

Poor Dash, he just doesn't know what to do with an emotionally unstable Danny lol. Danny's been bottling stuff up. It wants to come out. Wonder when that'll happen. ;)

If it's not overtly obvious, TUE happened as the episode goes, but with more firepower. Danny, however, thinks it's 1000% his fault, and will regard it as such.

Also took creative liberties with Amity Park, by the way. Took it from my other story, _Aquarius. (Insert ridiculous self-promo here)_ Which, I should add, you should _totally_ check out. That is, if you like aliens and spaceAU!s :D

Questions, comments, concerns, demands, thoughts, opinions and anything else is beyond welcome and I would love to hear all of it. Thanks!

Peace

\- Rookey


	5. Plummet

Heart of a Hero

Plummet

* * *

And I still feel that rush in my veins  
It twists my head just a bit too thin  
All those people in those old photographs I've seen are dead.

 _Fall Out Boy_

* * *

His day wasn't as eventful as he assumed it would be. With the way Danny's luck always seemed to play out, he kind of assumed there'd be a full-scale ghost invasion in the middle of Rhode Island during third period class or something, calling to attention everyone Danny _didn't_ want to call the attention of.

Including but not limited to the entire Justice League (as ghosts have picked up more of a record since the Catastrophe), the Guys in White, the police, and, not to mention, _Vlad._

Danny shuddered at the thought as he sat in his desk in the back of his third period class.

 _Advanced Placement Latin 3 -_ who would have ever suspected that one _Danny Fenton,_ notorious slacker and the one "Fenton Family non-Genius", would take a class that was infamous for giving students migraines and anxiety attacks?

The answer? No one. _No one_ would guess that Danny would place himself in advanced classes – that's not what a government fugitive _does._ That, and attending a public school in one of the most well known cities in the nation. It was another method of hiding, another way for Danny to avoid suspicion.

The most nerve-wracking part about it - although it flowed into perfect logic in Danny's mind – was that he hasn't tried this method of hiding before. This was a new one, an experiment.

At least Danny had a backup plan. Canada wasn't that far away and there wasn't much that could stop a ghost from bypassing some man-made border. Plus, Danny could only assume that the GIW would have an absolute hell of a time trying to fund and sponsor an international search for him. America was leading the world in ghost research, thanks to the Fentons. So far as Danny last heard, the closest nation behind them was Russia – whose vast expanse of land warranted for a plethora of natural ghost portals to appear. When there are ghosts, there are hunters – that's the way the world always seemed to work.

So, with Canada as a viable option - that throws one set of cards off the table. But that leaves the rest, which Danny could deal with.

 _Almost lunch,_ the thought interrupted Danny's thoughts as he halfheartedly listened to the teacher mumble something about the Latin language and scribble something on the board. Fifteen minutes. Danny wanted to jump up in excitement, but he had to remember, he had to _remind_ himself that he couldn't use his powers because of the risk of getting caught – even the simplest ghost detectors were _far_ too advanced to just _miss_ a huge spike in ectoplasmic activity in Rhode Island.

That thought alone quelled his urge to fly.

But just because he couldn't fly, didn't mean he couldn't _leave_. Danny perked up at the thought. That's right: Danny didn't have a last period class. It took a remarkably small amount of credits to graduate from Happy Harbor High, and Danny was more than willing to take advantage of that fact.

Wu could probably use his help at the Nanjing Palace. The man _was_ old, and they _were_ understaffed. Danny could help there, even though his shift didn't start 'till four in the afternoon.

Also, if he were being honest with himself, he knew he was force-feeding a baby a whole cow by coming to Happy Harbor High so soon. It was too much, too soon. He sat through two and three-quarters classes in a school that was too familiar, met a person he thought he'd never see again, and make too much eye contact with a person that looked too much like someone he missed way too much. It's been [six or eight] months since the… _incident,_ and if Danny learned anything from one of the two most influential redheads in his life, it was that time is both one's best friend and worst enemy.

"Mr. Johnson," The teacher, Mr. Williams Danny recalled, called, jolting the teenager out of his thoughts.

After a moment's pause, Danny returned, "Yes, Mr. Williams?"

Williams pointed to the paragraph he had written on the board. "Although you may be new, I still disapprove of my students _drifting off_ in my class. Perhaps you can translate this for me?"

Danny resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he skimmed the longish paragraph the teacher had scrawled on the whiteboard. So Williams was a hardass, Danny guessed he could respect that. You just didn't _take_ Advanced Placement Latin Three if you weren't going to focus.

But we all know that Danny's an outlier, in every way shape and form.

Danny cleared his throat, and began to read in Latin: _"Haec paragraphus ædificaverunt et construxerunt nisi ut non facile est, immo accedere posse legere. Legit dicendum legit latinam et translate anglicus ergo iterum in anglicus legit."_ Danny paused for a moment and smirked. " _Si cuncta Fulcit possit aut ambulare."_

Williams looked impressed. But of course he was, Danny just spat out a paragraph in damn-near fluent sounding Latin. It sounded natural, like his first language as opposed to a long-dead one.

"Are you going to translate it?" Williams asked. It wasn't rhetorical, either. He was trying to give the poor new kid a shovel to dig his way out of the hole he found himself in by zoning out.

But Danny just scoffed slightly and began again: " _This paragraph is built and constructed for the sole purpose of it being hard, or rather near impossible, to read flawlessly. To read it, one must say it aloud in Latin, then translate to English, then once again, read it aloud in English."_ Once again, he paused for effect. _"Props to you if you can get it all in one go."_

"You have my respect," Williams said, with a few awed nods spanning throughout the classroom. Danny blushed despite himself. His shoulders hunched and he seemed to shrink slightly under the attention.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"Now that that's covered," Williams said, clasping his hands, "You can all begin working on your homework. Have it done by next Monday, and we won't have any problems." He eyed Danny specifically. Great, looks like Williams already had Danny pegged as a slacker. Maybe the black clothes and the skulking attitude gave off that vibe.

Danny resisted the urge to role his eyes. Little did Williams know that Danny was damn near _fluent_ in Latin. He was a ghost – came with the territory. Looks were deceiving, they always where.

He suddenly felt a _pang_ in his chest at that thought. He knew someone who said that all the time – it was her signature phrase. She practically had it trademarked.

Danny felt a lump the size of Alaska form in his throat. Those words didn't sound right coming from him, even inside his own head.

 _She could still say it if she were still here._

A knot formed in his gut.

 _But she's not._

His hands contracted into tight fists and his shoulders slumped. He was closing in on himself – shutting down.

 _And whose fault was that?_

Danny needed to leave. He was up and out of his seat a full three seconds before the bell rang, and out of the classroom before anyone had managed to stand up.

He didn't need to stop by his locker before leaving the school – he had everything he needed with him. Always. It was the hallmark of his anxiety and paranoia to not allow him to relax in any situation – he'd never leave his things just _lying around_ where anyone could pick it up.

Danny was seventeen, after all. He had a drivers license – several, actually – but he could never give up the one that clearly said _"Danny Fenton"_ across the top. Danny was a sentimental bastard - shoot him. Not like he'd ever let anyone see _that_ particular card in his wallet, anyway. Not like they could, either. He had it stitched between the beat-up pieces of leather – quit literally _inside_ his wallet.

He thought he was pretty damn clever.

However, that train of thought was irrelevant. Right now, he needed to focus on navigating through the sea of teenagers that swelled through the narrow hallway, and on channeling out the nearly overwhelming wave of heat that radiated from them.

Humans were hot, he was not, and Mother Nature's a royal bitch that couldn't do her damn job back when Danny was first electrocuted.

He could almost hear Tucker's response in his head: an impish grin and a snarked, " _Seriously."_

Danny clenched his fists as that same _pang_ rang through his chest. It happened every time he thought about them… about _everything_. But he couldn't stop thinking about them. It. _The Incident._

Instead, he opted not to think about anything at all. And let me tell you, that's not an easy feat for Danny. Being a Fenton meant that he thought about anything and everything at the same time, in rapid succession – family trait. Meditation was nonexistent and Zen was a myth.

But then again, that's what Danny was supposed to be, too: nonexistent and a myth. He was good at breaking rules. What was one more?

He was being shoved around on all sides now, and he could feel the cruel, sour bile of anxiety rising up in his throat. Danny felt doubled down by the heat; he felt sweat gathering up on his forehead and running down his back uncomfortably. He felt a million eyes on him like knives running marathons down his back. Their voices were too loud, their scents too thick, their colors too vibrant for his heightened senses. His claustrophobia was peaking, his breaths came more rapidly, and he could feel his heart beginning to roar in his ears. He wasn't aware it _could_ beat that fast. His fists clenched at his sides, white with pressure, sweaty with condensed heat.

Sensory overload.

Three seconds from another panic attack.

In that moment, Danny knew he needed to _get the hell out of Dodge._

When Danny spotted a break in the massive crowd of teenagers, he went for it.

And like a bat out of hell, Danny Fenton was out of Happy Harbor High, paying no mind to the strange looks cast his way or a redheaded girl's bewildered expression.

* * *

"Wu?" Danny asked, pushing the yellowing and slightly lopsided door open as he entered the restaurant. Although the Nanjing Palace was renowned around Happy Harbor for being one of the best privately owned Chinese food joints, the place was in major need of some TLC.

The windows were covered in hairline fractures and they were yellowing in the corners. The table linens have lost their luminescent, pearly-white glow with the wear and tear of years of service, and the countertops were scratched and worn with use. Cobwebs littered some of the more concealed corners, and the ever-present scent of chicken broth wafted through the air. The mid-afternoon autumn sunlight streamed through the windows in soft beams and illuminated the booths and tabletops.

It was cozy, overall. Vintage.

Sam would have loved it.

Tucker would have cringed.

Danny suddenly felt a sense of uncalled for vertigo.

"W-Wu?" He repeated, cursing the way his voice broke as he stepped fully into the restaurant. "I'm back from school."

"Already?" A heavily accented voice called from the back of the restaurant. The door on the far back wall behind the counter swung open and Wu walked out, his tan, wrinkled hands covered in flour. He was holding a whisk in one hand while sporting a worn apron that said: "Kiss the Cook."

"School ends at 2:45, boy!" Wu pointed an accusatory whisk at Danny, his eyebrows raised in challenge. Danny probably would have felt threatened if it weren't for the fact that the man was seventy-something and probably five feet tall. Which, to note, was like a Chihuahua challenging a Great Dane - with Danny towering over him by a good ten or eleven inches.

"I have last period off," Danny said with a grin, shifting his backpack from shoulder to shoulder. "Got any work for me to do? We look..." Danny glanced around at the abandoned restaurant, "... _really_ busy."

Wu gave him a look that clearly asked: _Are you out of your mind?_

"Your shift don't start 'till four!" he exclaimed after a beat of silence, waving his whisk in the air. " _I_ make wantons. _You_ make friends!" Wu attempted to wave Danny out of the restaurant.

Did someone Danny's grandfather's age just tell him to get a social life?

"Well, what about Mei? Does she need help with anything?" Danny ignored the getting friends comment. Although it would be smart to make friends, the inkling paranoia and the heightened sense of social anxiety since the _Incident_ have put a hinderance on his social skills. And, well, the fact that making emotional investments when you're a government fugitive is about the _worst_ thing you can _possibly_ do.

Danny also figured that monotonous work like cooking, cleaning, or errand-running was a good way to get his mind off the near-catastrophic state it has been in for the last several hours.

But Wu wasn't having it. "Mei grocery shopping. She okay. You work hard, already," Wu gestured to the restaurant with his whisk. Which, Danny had to admit, he had a huge part in cleaning. "You new to Happy Harbor. Go, explore."

"Well I mean I've got homew-" Danny started.

"Go, boy, beautiful out! Go, out. Out, out!" Wu was nearly pushing him out the door, trying to not get any bright white flour on Danny's dark clothes.

Before the teenager could get in another word, the glass door slammed right in his face.

"You come back at four!" Wu's muffled voice rang out from inside the restaurant. "When shift starts!"

"...Okay," Danny said back, slightly bewildered by the whole exchange. He turned around and faced the streets. _Exploring, huh?_ Danny supposed he could do that.

Or he could sneak up the fire escape and into his apartment and sulk in silence, his brain suggested.

A rather tempting proposal.

But Wu had a point, and Danny was pretty sure if the old man caught him sneaking around the building when he should be enjoying one of the last warm autumn days of the year, he would become uncomfortably aquatinted with Wu's possibly steel-plated whisk.

Danny sighed, but it was halfhearted. He had to admit that it was nice to have someone care about him the way Wu did.

 _But that's because Wu doesn't know you._ Danny blew out a breath and walked away from the building and down the street. _He doesn't know what you did._

Ignoring the lump forming in his throat, Danny forced himself to think about other things. He thought he saw a park on his way back from school. He could go to the pier, too. There was one nearby. He could also check out Mount Justice, the city's most renowned tourist attraction. He had four hours to kill, after all.

So much to do.

The knot in his chest _politely_ informed him that he had to do something. Get his mind off his past. Lose this shadow of guilt that constantly followed him around.

A cold breeze brushed past him. Danny glanced around. By now, his feet have taken him to the coldest part of town - which is unsurprising, given the nature of Danny's currently inactive core. To his right, the vast expanse of the chilly, mid-fall Atlantic lined his vision. He was near the pier.

It seemed modeterly empty. There weren't many people wondering about since school was still in session. And it was a Monday.

Danny cracked a smile. The pier, then.

The pier it is.

* * *

A/N: HEY I'M ALIVE! And currently in the heat of senior year and drowning in papers for useless classes. And senioritis. That too. Anyway, coming out of a block for this story, thank you guys for all of your positive responses! This is proving to be a difficult story to write, partly because it's hard to get in the head of a teenager that blames himself for the deaths of his entire family and thousands of others. But hey, I'll give it my best shot. 100%.

Did you get my Teen Titans reference in here? :D

See you all next time, please drop a review on your way out!

Rookey

P.S.: Can we please take a moment of silence to think about and pay respects to all those who were lost in the Paris bombings and their families? This was a horrendous and inhuman act and to all my readers in France or the surrounding area, I want to send my condolences. Thank you.


	6. Past Lives

Heart of a Hero

Past Lives

* * *

Diamond sparrow, my moonlit majesty  
You know I need you, come flying back to me

 _BØRNS - "Past Lives"_

* * *

 _It really_ was _empty here._

The thought meandered into Danny's head as he took in the abandoned pier. The old wood creaked under his feet and the scents of salt and fish assaulted his senses. It was nice, he had to admit. Quiet. There weren't any warm bodies to tarnish the pure, cool ocean breeze that swept over him from time to time.

Blowing out a breath, Danny readjusted his grip on his backpack. Yeah, he could see Mount Justice some other time. Something told him he needed the space. Any more people could drive him over the edge.

He had come close enough for one day.

Danny walked along the pier and looked out at the ocean. It's been so long since he's seen it. Has it always been this... blue?

 _"No, it was green before. I wonder what changed?",_ he could imagine Tucker saying, followed by a playful quip of, _"dumbass."_

The Foley family lived in California before they moved to Ohio when Tucker was in kindergarten.

They still went out there once a year to visit family.

Of course Tucker would remember what the ocean looked like.

 _He doesn't anymore._

Danny gripped his temples as a stab of pain nearly knocked him off his feet and he sat on a nearby bench. He needed to stop doing that. Stop remembering. Stop everything.

But he didn't want to forget them. He didn't want to forget their significance. Danny just wanted to accept what he's lost and move on. Didn't people do that? Didn't people move forward?

But he knew that's not what he really wanted. Danny wanted to move forward with his life... But he wanted to move forward _with them._

 _He just wanted them back._ Everyone. The whole town. Danny desperately wanted everything to go back to normal. He wanted the pain, the anxiety, the depression, the emotions, _all of it_ to just _go the hell away._

Danny shot upright. _That_ sounded familiar. He felt a crushing weight on his chest, icy cold and nearly overwhelming. That was _too familiar._

The headache thumping through his head amped it up a notch. Danny exhaled sharply, shivering as a sudden spike of cold shot up his spine and into the back of his neck, drying his throat and making his head throb.

Danny knew that straight up ice would help - it always did when Danny got headaches before everything happened, but he wasn't sure if it was worth the risk now.

He decided against it. Cryokinesis was a notorious gateway power, so Frostbite had told him when his power first developed. Since his ectoplasmic ice was closely linked to his normal ectoplasm, it's far too easy to slip from cryokinesis to ectoplasmic manipulation unintentionally, especially with his current, slightly unstable emotional state - being that his powers were controlled by both will _and_ emotion.

Normally that wasn't a problem - ice, even ectoplasmic ice, wasn't detectable on any kind of ghost hunting equipment. Frozen ectoplasm, like Danny's, was extremely rare and hard to come by. Ectoplasm was a substance found mostly in the Ghost Zone, and it being a naturally cold substance, had an extremely low freezing level. Like, _Z_ _ero Kelvin_ freezing level. Absolute zero.

 _Pretty damn cold._

Ectoplasm hardly ever froze. There were approximately 2 or 3 places in the _entire_ Ghost Zone, a _whole dimension,_ in which ectoplasm naturally froze, and Danny's cold core was just as much of an anomaly as Vlad's hot one.

Humans have never been able to get their hands on frozen ectoplasm. Danny almost didn't want to know what happened if they _did._ It looked like normal ice, but it's melting and shattering points were off the charts. The only person with enough power to manipulate his ice was _him._

Luckily for Danny, unrecognizable substances weren't registered in ghost hunting equipment. There was ambient energy all over this plane of reality, and in order for ghost technology to work, it had to key into one specific _type_ of ambient energy and remember it.

But the risk was still there.

So Danny just grit his teeth and lived with the headache.

His mother would be shaking her head.

Maddie's side of the family had a history of migraines. _Four ibuprofens, a bag of ice, and a dark room would do the trick, fix 'ya right up,_ she would tell him. It worked too, when Danny was a little kid. Jazz never got them. Guess she was too smart for that.

She was too smart for everything. Both of them were.

Danny could feel the lump rising in his throat. His stomach dropped to his shoes. He was going to have a complete meltdown. It's been two months since his last one, what gives? Why now?

At least he was alone. And awake.

Both were good things.

"I don't see why you don't just go for a run."

Danny jerked upright from the slouched, hunched over position he had ended up with, like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

His head whipped around to the source of the talking. He didn't hear anyone come up from behind him, let alone sit next to him on the bench. His senses were better than _that._ He could normally hear a heartbeat from a good twenty feet away.

Danny's mouth fell open and his stomach dropped. He couldn't _believe_ what he saw, sitting on the bench beside him.

This wasn't happening. It _was not_ happening.

"Running's what everyone else does when they want to blow off steam," she was saying, drawing a file from her pocket and grinding it against her nails. "That and drinking. And drugs. Which I suggest in moderation if you're really looking to experiment."

"W-what- what's going-" Danny sputtered.

"Sex works too but you were never really the type." She continued on as if he had not spoken. She was looking out at the sea, eyes drawn to the horizon, where the sea met the sky in a celestial dance of white where a layer of clouds drifted softly in the distance.

"... _Sam?_ " Danny asked, his voice a shaky whisper. Barley a breath, a mutter lost in the breeze.

She turned to him, black hair falling just above her shoulders in a tossed mess as it always did.

 _Just like how he remembered it._

"You should go into art, that shit's relaxing as all get out. You could really make it big with those ice powers of yours. You and Tucker could be hipster trash together."

There was no way that _wasn't_ Sam. She looked exactly the way she did when Danny last saw her, tied to an explosive boiler and gagged with ectoplasm.

She was wearing an oversized sweater that hung off her shoulders and fell to about the middle of her thighs. It was Danny's present to her for her sixteenth birthday - she wore it whenever she could.

The joke was that Danny himself was so cold that his friends needed winter gear to be around him - so there was a period of time when that's all they would give each other: scarves, hats, gloves, coats, and in one particularly interesting event, snow goggles.

The sweater was on the tail end of the running joke, but Danny mostly got it because the of the black knit pattern that vaguely resembled interlocking bats and spiders in the right light. It was something you had to look harder at to fully appreciate.

Under the seater, she wore a pair of ripped and snagged leggings. There were various holes and tears in them from over a year and a half of ghost hunting. Tucker always wondered why she never threw them out, but Sam was sentimental. She liked things broken and faded. She never tried to fix the broken because she believed everything was broken. Nothing was whole, so she never saw the point in pretending like it was. She was the only person Danny knew who was both an optimist and a pessimist at the same time.

A part of Danny always wondered if that's why she was ever friends with him and Tucker in the first place. Two nerdy high school outcasts - one, a freakishly smart computer genius that had to have been born fifty years before his time and the other, the geeky son of the two biggest lunatics the town had to offer, brother of the school's biggest overachiever.

Sam could have done so much better than them. She was beautiful - with wide, strikingly unique violet eyes framed by heavy eyeliner under a set of thick, dark eyebrows. Her straight hair was always a choppy mess and it fell in an uneven framework of dark locks around her face. Her pale, pretty features could have easily gotten her a spot in the A-List of Casper High, even without mentioning the wealth or esteem of her parents.

When she first started hanging out with Danny and Tucker after moving from Chicago back in middle school, it had been beyond baffling to both boys.

Kind of like how it was baffling now to see her sitting here, six months after _he_ _saw her die._

"How are you _here?"_ Danny asked, his voice unable to raise above a whisper. "The explosion... it-"

"-Killed a whole lot of people," Sam said. She looked out at the ocean again and sighed. "A _whole lot_ of people. Yeah, I know."

"I should have stopped it," Danny found himself saying. He wanted to say so much more. He couldn't get over the fact that she was _here,_ _with_ _him._ But his mouth, dry and devoid of just the right thing to say, seemed to have other plans. "I should have done... _something._ I wasn't strong enough to save them." He couldn't seem to draw his eyes away from her - he was awed beyond belief, shocked raw, and rocked to the core. But his words rang true.

"Bullshit," Sam said without hesitation, "You did everything you could. You stopped a whole lot of other people from dying that day. _It wasn't your fault."_

" _I_ killed everyone." Danny said. He could feel tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. "My friends, my family, my town... even you!"

" _You_ didn't kill anyone," Sam said, turning to face him. She had her famous stubborn, dead-set look in her eyes - but they were different from the ones Danny remembered. These eyes... they were flatter, almost _deader._ Fainter. Like a memory. "You saved _everyone_ _you could_. _He_ was the one that killed those people and destroyed those lives. _Not. You._ " Sam planted her elbows on her knees and gestured for emphasis. She always did that when she was arguing a point she knew she would win.

"But Dan... is me, Sam. _T_ _hat was me_!" Danny said, maintaining his voice at a low whisper. He couldn't physically make his voice higher. He was still taking her in and his vocal cords seemed to not want to work. He was speechless.

"Whatever the hell _that_ was, was _not_ you." Sam stated with finality. The fiery look in her eyes clearly portrayed that this discussion was over and Danny had effectively lost. " _You_ are you. _This_ you. And _this you_ is going to keep fighting. And eventually, _this_ you is going to move on. And you're going to help _a_ _whole lot of people._ Got it, Corpse Breath?"

Danny, for the first time in what felt like months, cracked a genuine grin at the nickname. The tears in his eyes swelled with the sound of the tease. They rolled down his cheeks, glowing white the way they always have since he became a halfa.

Danny, a moment later, came to the horrific realization that he was, in fact, crying. He was crying? Since when? He hadn't allowed himself to cry in months. He had begun to believe he was no longer able to, he had forced himself to feel so numb for so long. With this realization, he could feel his resolve breaking down. After a moment of silence, he finally said, "Got it, Bat Brains."

" _Real_ creative, Dead Boy. _Bat Brains?_ What's next, _Vamperica?"_

"Don't tempt me," Danny retorted with a growing smile. He couldn't believe his day had taken such a complete 180. The ball of constant stress and anxiety - the four-ton baseball of guilt that had taken residence within his chest over the course of the last six months - began to suddenly not weigh as much. It began to dissolve slightly. Wither away. Die, like everything else.

Danny didn't know what he was feeling, but despite it, he wouldn't allow his guard to fall.

The universe loved to play games with him. He had a feeling that Sam - this one, right here - was just another game.

He wasn't going to lose again.

But her being here...

"Ever the creative one," Sam quipped sarcastically with a snort.

...Was unbelievable. And Danny could live with the unbelievable.

Honestly, he was dying to ask her _how she was here right now,_ but Danny would give anything to live in this moment of friendship for a little bit longer. He promised himself he'd broach the topic when it came up. But he was reveling in Sam's company right now. _Danny needed her here_.

"I can be creative!" Danny defended. "I... I made a model rocket once!"

Sam raised an eyebrow. " _Danny Phantom," s_ he stated simply.

Danny felt a blush rising up on his cheeks.

"Danny Miller," Sam continued, "Jones, Davis, Smith, Williams, and Johnson. I'm really sensing the creativity here, Dead Head."

"In my line of work, creativity can kill you," Danny pointed out. "Uniqueness isn't good. Everyone's named ' _Johnson'_ around here, and 'Danny' is a common name. I gotta _blend,_ Sam. _Blending._ _Camouflage."_ He wriggled his fingers for emphasis.

"Well at least you didn't use _Danny_ every time. You changed it up to _Damon_ once, but I guess you didn't like the name."

"Too teenage-romance-y." Danny said, "Reminded me of some vampire show mom and Jazz used to watch. Kept getting flashbacks."

Danny suddenly paused. The wheels in his head literally stopped moving for a solid three seconds. He stared in front of him, eyes growing wide. His mouth suddenly grew dry. His stomach dropped. His head jerked around to face Sam. "How did you know that, anyway?" Danny asked quickly. "I used that name once, two months ago, for four days." His brows scrunched together. "Actually, how did you know any of that? I used all of those last names in that exact order. How do _you_ know them?"

Sam had this odd expression on her face. It was somewhere between torn, guilty, and neutral. Deliberating, concentrating. Panicking. "Come to think of it," Danny continued, his eyes narrowing and his face melting into a glare. "How are you even here, right now? Last time I checked, _you were dead."_

Sam's face cleared of emotion. The conflicting emotions playing across her features settled into something unreadable, something almost profound. Something determined. Something undeniably _Sam_ , "Danny... _I am dead."_

Danny felt his chest tighten. His stomach churned at the implications of what Sam was suggesting. In Danny's world, death wasn't permeant. And the aftermath was almost worse than death itself. Danny would know, after all - he lived in the aftermath of death every day, and has been for years.

If Sam really was dead, and if this wasn't really her, then... "Then what are you?" He found himself asking. He didn't want to know the answer.

Sam looked troubled. Conflicted. Uncertain. A reflection of Danny himself, he realized with a jolt. "Danny..." She started, "I'm not real."

"Course you're real," Danny said immediately. He gave her a once-over, taking in her appearance. "You look real to me."

"I'm not." She said with finality. "Wave a hand, Danny. Try to touch me."

"What are you suggesting?" Danny asked, his eyebrows raised. It's not that he didn't want to touch her, _he absolutely did,_ but he was afraid of what would happen if he tried.

"That you're imagining things, Danny." Sam said softly.

Danny raised a quizzical eyebrow at her.

"You have been for a while," she continued. "You replay the explosion in your dreams every night. Every night you watch us die." She sniffed slightly, and Danny realized that she might be beginning to cry.

He's only seen _Sam Manson_ cry once before, and that was on the day of the Portal Accident, two and a half years ago. Never once before, never once since.

She was right... _This wasn't Sam_.

"You see our faces on the streets," 'Sam' continued, "you hear our voices everywhere you go. Addington, Colorado and Sienna, Texas. Canyon City, California. You've been seeing us for a while now, Danny. You've _hallucinated_ _before._ You just haven't realized it until now."

"But... Wait, I-" Danny stuttered. This didn't make any sense. He didn't _hallucinate._ Danny wasn't psychotic, he was _fine._ Addington was just a fluke. Sienna was a coincidence. Canyon City... No, that didn't make any sense. Sam looked just about as _real_ to him as Dash did this morning, or Wu did this afternoon. Sam was _real._ She was sitting _right here._

Sam was _here._

She had to be.

"You thought the boy from Canyon City was real, too." Sam said softly, her downcast eyes settling to her hands, folded in her lap. She was drawing into herself in a way Danny had never seen her do before. "You thought the woman from Sienna was real, and the man from Addington. Danny, not everything you're seeing around you... is _real."_

"Why are you telling me this?" Danny asked her. He wasn't looking at Sam anymore. He felt numb all over. On top of all of his other problems, he had to be psychotic too? How much of his life was really a lie? How much of the last six months was his fucked up imagination talking? How much of it was _real?_

"Because somebody had to," Sam said, her eyes downcast and her voice wavering. "You're dealing with a lot," She said, "and your brain doesn't know what to do with it. Can't cope. Things... things like me, it's all in your head."

"You sound like Jazz," Danny chuckled humorlessly, "Say you are a... hallucination - which I don't buy, by the way - why are you here now? How are you able to talk to me? How do you look so... _solid? Real?"_

"I'm here because you needed me to be," Sam said, "and I don't know, Danny. The mind's a weird thing."

Danny looked at her, an overwhelming weight suddenly thrusting itself onto his shoulders. He felt weighed down. Defeated. But even so, he found himself asking, "Will I see you again?"

Sam cracked a smile. She sniffed, but the movement knocked her unshed tears loose. They dripped down her face, smearing the eyeliner circling her wide violet eyes. "Count on it, Danny. I'm in your head, I'll always be here."

Danny sighed and looked out at the water. The clouds were rolling in closer, now. A thin layer of mist swept in from the ocean and coated the pier. A storm was coming.

Danny sighed and sniffed. He didn't know what do do anymore, what to say, how to act. He didn't even know if the prospect of vividly hallucinating people from his past life was spectacular or grave. Was he crazy? Should he check himself into Arkham right now and be done with it? Turn himself over to the Justice League and tell them to lock him in the biggest psych ward they've got? Plead insane in front of the court if he was ever caught and put on trial?

Like that'd ever happen.

If Danny were caught, there'd be no trial.

Ghosts weren't humans, and by protocol of the Anti-Ecto Control Act, his existence outside the Ghost Zone was illegal. His fate as a lab rat would forever be sealed if he were outed.

That was life.

Just like how being crazy was, however messed up this sounds, a part of his life, too. Setting his elbows on his knees and resting his head on his arms, he said finally, "Thanks, Sam." A shudder racked through his body and he shivered. His hands were shaking. His head was spinning. The concept of reality seemed to play tricks within his head, now.

"I miss you," He said after a minute of complete silence.

There was more to it than that, more that he wanted to say, more that he wanted to do. There was so much _more_ to his friendship with Sam than, " _thanks, Sam, I miss you."_

The word "miss" could be replaced with something else.

He was met with silence. There was no sound on the pier, just the steady ringing of his ears and the sound of waves in the distance.

The fog had grown by now. It had enveloped the entire pier, diminishing his visibility and sending an uneasy chill down his spine.

He looked over to the other side of the bench, hoping Sam would say something else, anything else.

She was gone.

Danny was alone.

* * *

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to all of my American or Thanksgiving-celebrating readers! Here's some angst for ya. Betcha weren't expecting that! HAH! I'm kind of cackling. _I_ wasn't even expecting that. This story pulled a Dash on me again. Whoops.

Some things aren't lining up... Some pieces aren't fitting perfectly together. I wonder if Danny'll figure out what they are. I wonder if _you_ will :)

The Team should be coming in soon, by the way. So stick around ;)

By the way, the reference in the last chapter was Wu's apron. I think Cyborg had one like it lol

Please, please, please drop a review on your way out! They're my lifeblood, honestly. Thanks so much :)

Peace,

Rookey


	7. We Can Deliver, You Know

Heart of a Hero

We _Can_ Deliver, You Know

* * *

We all are living in a dream,  
But life ain't what it seems  
Oh, everything's a mess.

 _Imagine Dragons - "Dream"_

* * *

The day was winding down and coming to an end, although you'd never know it with the amount of people milling about the Nanjing Palace.

That is, zero. Zip. Zilch. The whole place was barren, empty, and eerily quiet, and has been since the start of Danny's shift at four. Although Danny couldn't say he blamed people for not coming in - it got dark out real quick because that storm he saw off the pier earlier blew in at an astonishingly fast rate. The rain was pelting the hard glass windows out front like tiny bullets and Danny was impressed that nothing broke. He could hear the thunder clashing outside and see the lightning flashing through the streets.

There were a few artificial lights hanging from the ceiling that kept the Nanjing Palace running and active, and they glowed warmly as a sort of comfort from the cold and wet outside world. Danny could hear the creaks and groans from his apartment upstairs, and was worried about the roof leaking. Mei said it was an old house and not to worry about it.

This was the first storm Happy Harbor had seen in a while as they had been in the midst of a rather nasty drought. The sudden water made the wood of the house creak due to lack of exposure.

Danny relaxed after hearing that, but something like an inkling feeling at the back of his mind whispered that the creaking and the groaning wasn't as normal as Mei made it seem.

But Danny was also paranoid, and factoring that into the equation made ignoring the anxious feelings at the back of his mind easier.

Currently, Wu was sitting on a barstool to the far left of the restaurant, short legs hanging off the stool and wrinkled hands clenched in excitement as he enthusiastically watched a sport's game on the boxy old television mounted to the wall. Danny smirked. Wu may not look it, but he was a _huge_ hockey fan.

But the way he went about it was... different than most people. See, when Wu was watching a game, he didn't root for any particular team.

Someone on the television scored and Wu jumped in excitement. "Yes!" He exclaimed, "The young man had it, I knew he'd make that shot."

He rooted for whoever scored. Not the team that won the point.

In fact, Danny was sure Wu didn't even know which teams were playing - he didn't care. He cared about the players.

Danny admired his outlook. It spoke volumes about who Wu was as a person.

So did the fact that he and his wife allowed some random homeless, traumatized, ragamuffin teenager - probably wild-eyed and scared out of his mind - to stay in the apartment above their restaurant. You know, their family business, their livelihood, probably one of their only sources of income.

 _For free._

So yeah, Danny admired Wu. A whole lot. Danny smiled to himself, turning his attention away from Wu and back to the psychology homework he had been working on under the host's counter. Technically, he wasn't supposed to be working on homework while on the job, but if his only job was sitting at a counter and twiddling his thumbs, then he really needed something better to do.

 _"The fifth stage of sleep is known as the REM Stage, which stands for the Rapid Eye Movement Stage. What is significant about this stage, as opposed to stages one, two, three, and four?"_

Thank God Danny's sat through enough psychology lectures thanks to his sister to know what the hell they were talking about.

 _"The Rapid Eye Movement Stage of sleep is the dream stage."_ He wrote, his signature chicken scratch barely legible in the space under the question. Danny's always been a fast writer - shorthand was his expertise and he's been told he'd make a _fabulous_ secretary - but the only people who could really understand his handwriting other than him were all -

Danny shook his head, nearly choking on the golfball-sized lump that formed in his throat. Hopefully Ms. Connelly's seen enough sloppy handwriting in her day to see through Danny's lack of controlled penmanship.

 _"What happens when a person goes for too long without achieving REM sleep?"_ The next question read. This was stupidly repetitive, considering he knew all the material. At least Danny was almost done, thanks to the amount he got done earlier that day.

His brow crinkled. _It's been one day?_ This _had_ to have been the longest day of his life. First school, then the Jazz-duplicate, then Dash, then totally-not-a-hallucination-because-he-isn't-crazy Sam, and now work. What's next, a bank robbery? Ghost attack?

Government exposure?

He stopped his train of thoughts right then and there. With how bad Danny's luck was, he wouldn't put it past the universe to give him any number of headaches before the day was over. The night was still young, after all.

Sighing to himself, he scratched in his answer, " _The person experiences irritability, fatigue, and lack of concentration."_

The next question was also stupid. _"What's the longest you've ever gone without sleep?"_

Danny almost snorted. Did he even have to answer this? He didn't see the point. Normal humans can go about two to five days and be fine. He answered two days to be safe, but the truth is that it was longer than _that._

Ghosts didn't sleep and Danny was half ghost. He slept about as often as you'd expect.

After the Portal accident, he didn't sleep for over a month. His friends were more than concerned, and he'd fake sleep to look good. He started to average about four to five hours a night with sporadic episodes of week-long insomnia after his body began to adjust to his new biology. Danny knocked it up to six hours a night when his more advanced powers began to develop and he finally, _finally_ hit that long-awaited puberty growth spurt. It wasn't exactly the human normal, but it was _his_ normal.

And then the explosion happened. Danny didn't sleep for a whole _three_ _months_ afterwards - too riddled with horrific waking nightmares and flashbacks to even try. Even now, sleep was rare. Dreamless sleep was like finding a rainbow-shitting unicorn.

But ninety days without sleep is _well above_ the world record (which was eleven - at some point in the past, Danny had been interested enough to look it up), so he chose to leave that part out.

The bell of the front door chimed and the sound of rain pelting the doorframe rang throughout the restaurant. Danny's head snapped up at the sudden sound, heart racing in his ears, eyes narrowed in challenge.

Oh. Well, it was safe to say Danny's mind overreacted slightly. Two men stood at the restaurant's entrance, dripping wet and looking rather miserable. The first man was a tall, thirty-something African American man with a buzzcut. He was shivering and soggy, his waterlogged shoes squashing against the front mat. He was bony, with long legs and a scrawny frame. He was probably a halfway decent runner, but he definitely wasn't a threat.

The other man didn't look much better. He was a shorter than the first by a whole head, and about two times as wide. He looked only slightly older - in his late thirties or early forties. He appeared to be Hispanic, with a bushy mustache and only a slight potbelly hanging over his belt. His face held a scowl under a pair of bushy black eyebrows. Also not a threat.

The only thing about the men that threw Danny off and made him internally glower in suspicion were their outfits. Navy blue button-up shirts and slacks, riddled with pockets and badges. Black belts hung around their waists, and Danny could see twin guns poking out of their holsters. And tasers, they had those too.

These two were cops.

But being the fact that they were acting relatively friendly - about as friendly as one could be after being caught in the rain - and not pointing their guns at _him_ , Danny could assume they weren't here to ruin the rest of his day.

"Table for two?" Danny asked out of habit, feigning a pleasant smile.

"You got it, kid," The Hispanic cop said in a heavy Eastern accent. Danny couldn't decipher which one it was - he was from the _midwest_ for crying out loud. Nobody in the midwest and onward can decipher an accent, this is a known fact. The only one Danny recognized right off the bat was a Chicago accent, for obvious reasons.

The cop's voice sounded Boston-y, or New York-y, or New England-y, or Something-y. Danny honestly had no clue.

Danny gestured to the empty restaurant, "Go ahead and sit anywhere."

"I didn't know Wu was hiring," The African American man commented as the two showed themselves to a booth near the window. The one booth that had both a good view of outside _and_ Wu's television.

As if he heard his name in their conversation, Wu made an enthusiastic shout from the back of the restaurant as another player scored.

"Guess I just came at a right time," Danny said vaguely with a wave of his hand. He didn't really want to go into the fact that he was homeless and squatting- _living,_ in the apartment on the floor above.

"Right time for all of us too," The Hispanic man - Douglas, his name tag read - commented with a gleam in his eye. "Never seen this place look so clean."

 _It was the least I could do,_ Danny wanted to say. It was true - cleaning this place really _was_ the least he could do to repay Wu and Mei for their kindness.

Instead, he gave the two cops a pleasant smile and said, "They could really use the help. I'm just glad they let me do it."

"You'd be one of few," The African American cop - Milton, according to his name tag - joked. "You'd think ol' Wu and Mei over there're thirty-five, what with the way they run things 'round here."

"Age is reward," Wu's heavily accented voice called from the back of the restaurant. "Age is wise. Less nimble, more smart."

"That's what he keeps telling himself," Douglas stage-whispered to Danny behind his hand.

"I'm guessing you guys know each other?" Danny asked, observing the way Milton and Douglas spoke of Wu and Mei with such familiarity.

"Oh yeah," Milton said, "We go way back."

"Monday regulars," Mei called from the back. Danny glanced back and saw that she had now left the kitchen and was standing beside Wu, watching the game. She was a small woman, about an inch shorter than Wu, putting her at a solid four-foot-eleven. Her steel-colored hair was tied into a tight bun at the back of her head and she was wearing a floral patterned apron. She must have finished off those wantons Wu had started earlier. "Every Monday, six-thirty sharp. Do you two want your usual?"

"Please," Douglas said, his mustache lifting into the vague impression of a smile. "Always been a fan of your egg-drop soup."

"Miso soup is _clearly_ better," Milton commented.

" _Clearly,_ you have no taste," Douglas retorted.

 _"C_ _learly,_ you need your head checked."

" _Clearly,_ you need more culture."

 _Clearly, meat is far better than that leafy green stuff you call food because protein keeps you going._

 _Clearly, vegetables are_ so much better _because they aren't injected with that weird, artificial hormone-replacement-antibiotics crap. There's no point in murdering an animal when protein supplements are a real thing._

 _Humans are omnivores - meaning Mother Nature_ intended _for us to eat meat, dude. Meat is what drives society._

 _Tell that to all the people who died of meat-born illnesses. Tofu is a_ much _better solution._

Danny resisted the urge to cringe. Taking a breath, he said, cursing the way his voice trembled, "I-Is there anything else other than water I can get you both?"

Douglas waved a hand, seeming to have overlooked Danny's sudden hesitance. "We're all good here kid."

"We'll letcha know if we need anything," Milton finished.

Danny shot them both a tired smile and walked to the fountain. He grabbed two glasses and filled them with water. Man, he hated it when people argued about food. It wasn't a pet peeve or anything, he was just _too familiar_ with it. It reminded him too much of Sam and Tucker and every time the three of them shared a meal. Sighing, Danny silently brought the drinks to the table, where the two cops were laughing to a joke one of them must have said.

"-And I told him: ' _You're about as high as Superman right now buddy, but you'd have to be an idiot to mess with me. I'm the one with the real gun!'"_ Douglas cracked and Milton wailed in laughter.

"You're telling me a guy tried to _shoot you with a finger gun!?"_ Milton cried, his shoulders shaking in laugher.

"Right after telling me he was secretly Superman," Douglas responded.

"I can't believe McAuthor never told me about this."

"Stayed in the cruiser man, otherwise she'd be all over it."

Danny set the glasses down on the table unnoticed, trying not to laugh at their conversation. He walked away, but he kept an ear out for their discussion. He had nothing better to do than to eavesdrop anyway, so he figured he might as well.

He sat back at the host's station, pulling out his psych homework and letting his pencil hover over the next question to give the appearance of him actually working instead of listening to the two... _interesting_ cops.

But a few moments later, Danny wished he hadn't.

"So anyway, did you ever hear from Carlton over in California? About... _the sightings_?" Douglas asked Milton.

"Nothing new," Milton said, sounding slightly troubled. "She's not very high up in that military ghost hunting devision - what was it called, the Guys in White? I know the name pissed her off some - they don't tell her much."

"I heard all the ghost detectors along the West Coast went off all at once."

"That's what Carlton said," Milton responded, "but they haven't figured out where the source of the disturbance is yet. They thought they pinpointed it in Southern California, but there's not much evidence. Only thing they got's some continuing spike of ecto-energy - apparently it keeps shorting out all their equipment."

"People said they saw... _him,_ if I remember right."

"It's what I keep hearing," Milton nodded. "Too bad for us he up and disappeared before anyone could get a picture. Carlton says Supergirl and some of the Titans were on the case, but they can't figure it out."

 _Because Phantom is notorious for disappearing._ Danny thought, although it was slightly bitter. News from California spread this far already? He was in _Rhode Island,_ and the thing in Canyon City happened only two months ago.

But their conversation did bring up a point Danny didn't already know. The... _incident_ in California almost outed him to the public. Some people even _saw_ him, but he was gone before anyone could get out their phones. He was well aware that he set off ghost detectors all along the Southern California coast, miles around where he was, but he had no idea he set off detectors _all along the West Coast._ That is, detectors in Washington, Oregon, _and_ California.

And California was _still_ seeing strange spikes in ecto-energy? _That_ certainly wasn't him. At least, he didn't think it was. It _shouldn't be,_ but come to think of it, it was definitely a possibility. Danny had to get _real creative_ in order to get the hell out of dodge a few months ago, and by doing so did some rather _unconventional_ fancy footwork when it came to his powers, even by ghost standards. It was actually quite possible that Southern California was still feeling the aftermath of that little trick, but it wasn't anything remotely harmful. Otherwise, Danny wouldn't hesitate to get in touch with a ghostly ally and ask for a visual.

He might do it anyway, though, just to be sure.

But that was a dilemma for another time.

"Think the Justice League'll look into it?" Douglas asked curiously.

"I don't think so," Milton answered, "not without solid evidence. It could just be another ghost portal; Carlton says they pick up readings like this in Amity Park all the time. All we know is that a ghost was _definitely there,_ just who it was and for how long hasn't been determined."

That tidbit of information was certainly nice to know. Danny stopped listening and turned back to his homework.

That is, until a clash of thunder rattled the restaurant and the door flew open with a loud, obnoxious _BANG!_

Danny jumped just about a foot in the air, his head snapping up so fast that he was halfway certain he almost broke his own neck.

Standing in the door was a silhouette, draped in darkness and filling the doorway. The Nanjing Palace grew silent with the sudden noise and there was an undeniable stillness in the air - palpable. You could cut it with a knife. Danny's muscles tensed of their own accord. He was ready to attack - falling into a fighting stance with his legs coiled like springs and his arms placed purposely on the host's stand, prepared to throw the table if need be.

He was about to jump into action when the shadow suddenly spoke.

" _Man_ it's cold out!"

Danny's fighting stance melted when a boy entered the restaurant, coming into the light. He was tall, and although Danny couldn't really tell from his vantage point, the kid looked about an inch to an inch and a half shorter than himself. He looked about a year younger than Danny, too. Maybe a Sophomore in High School? Or a young Junior, Danny could see that too. He had one of those faces that could go either way.

But it was his build, his stature, and not so much his demeanor but more his utter un-teenager-like _confidence_ that immediately put Danny slightly on edge. His back was straight, his shoulders were thrown back, and his chest was puffed out in that cocky way Danny tended to mimic when fighting ghosts.

The kid had broad shoulders and long, musclier legs. His gangly arms dangled lazily at his sides like he didn't know what to do with them. He had a good-looking face, and it bothered Danny just how much he looked like the younger, male version of Jazz - what with the red hair, the shining greenish eyes, and the spray of freckles across his nose.

That's two people in one day that looked like Jazz.

He felt another _pang_ in his chest. _God_ ,Danny missed her.

The boy's soaked and waterlogged shoes tracked water and grime into the restaurant. His jeans and leather jacket looked muddy and in severe need of a wash. It looked like the kid just came back from a run. You know, _through the rain_. Danny raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"And wet too, but hey, that part's easy to figure out." The boy said. His voice was quick and slightly hard to keep up with.

"I can imagine," Danny responded, smirking. "Can I help you with something?"

The boy regarded Danny as if only now noticing he were there. He raised his eyebrows for a moment but shook his head, looking a little shocked. "Uh, yeah actually," He said, "I just wanna order takeout."

"Did you call in?" Danny asked, not remembering the phone ringing at the main counter. Wouldn't this kid want his food _delivered_ in this weather? With Danny around, the Nanjing Palace could finally put that old, nearly dead company delivery van to use.

"Nope," The kid said, popping the 'p.' "Thought I'd drop by and see how everyone's doing 'round here."

"You a regular?" Danny asked pleasantly, readying a pen and paper to take the kid's order.

"Come in 'bout once or twice a week. Me, Wu, and Mei are _real_ tight. You new?" He shot back the answer and the counter-question at lightning speed. Danny was almost dreading taking his order if he was going to talk so fast.

"Just started about a week and a half ago," Danny answered shortly after deciphering what it was the kid had asked him.

"Never seen Wu and Mei hire someone before," the kid commented.

"They could use the help," Danny shrugged, "and I got nothing better to do. Can I take your order?" Danny was never a huge fan of small talk. Why did this kid _care_ , anyway?

"Oh yeah! Forgot about that," He blushed, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet and tapping his fingers on his thighs. Looks like this kid was super hyperactive. Not that Danny cared much, he knew a lot of people who were the same way. Like Dash, Starr, Tucker, his father...

"There's a lot," the kid forewarned, interrupting Danny's train of thought. Shaking himself out of it, Danny nodded, holding up his pen and paper for emphasis. He'd be lying if he said the gesture wasn't at least _slightly_ sarcastic.

The kid cracked a grin at Danny's gesture and began talking. "I'll have two orders of Orange Chicken, one large cup of Chicken and Rice Soup, one large cup of Hot and Sour Soup, two large cups of Miso Soup, four large cups of Egg Drop Soup, two orders of Pork Lo Mein, four orders of Kung Pao Chicken, one order of Hot and Spicy Shrimp, one order of Garlic Chicken, three orders of Mongolian Beef, and a whole bunch of your fried wontons." The kid seemed to say all this without taking a breath, shooting out food items like a machine gun.

Danny scratched all this down in his signature messy shorthand, his eyebrows raised the whole time. "How much is 'a whole bunch'?"

The kid looked genuinely surprised. It looked like he expected Danny to not catch his entire order. Danny wanted to roll his eyes. _Of course_ he caught all of it. He grew up listening to his family talk at a million miles an hour about what felt to Danny to be the most random assortment of things on the _planet_ , and he became friends with _Tucker_ for Pete's sake.

 _Shit._

Danny blinked away the thoughts. He needed to _stop that._ If earlier today was any indication, if he didn't cut it out, he could start hallucinating _other_ people from his past life, too. Danny _was_ apparently crazy, after all.

But even still, a part of him seemed to flat-out _refuse_ to accept that he was hallucinating at all. When he first got his ghost powers after the Portal Accident, Danny hallucinated slightly because of the pain medications he was on. It felt _different_ then - more dream-like, less _real._

He felt like he was actually _talking_ to Sam this time. He could almost _feel_ her presence, her disturbance of the molecules around them, her disruptions of the vibrations in the air, the solid way the dim light cast shadows from her form, everything seemed _far_ _too_ _real_ for Danny to fully accept what she told him.

But the mid was a weird thing, after all. He's learned nothing from Jazz if not that.

"Like..." The kid thought for a moment, snapping Danny back to their conversation, "As much as you got."

 _Now_ Danny was skeptical. "Wu and Mei just made a batch today. There's _a lot_ in the back."

"All of it," The kid confirmed, nodding firmly.

Danny raised an eyebrow and wrote it down. As long as the kid paid for all of it...

"Feeding an army?" Danny asked. _No way_ he was eating all of this himself.

The kid chuckled, "Something like that."

"This'll probably be a little while, do you mind waiting?" Danny asked, re-reading the kid's order for accuracy and legibility.

"Not at all. It's warm in here. And dry."

Danny smirked. "True statement. Can I get a name for the order?"

"Yeah," The redhead said absently, rolling onto his heels. "It's Wally. Wally West."

* * *

A/N: There you have it, Young Justice characters finally make an actual, non-cameo appearance! This was going to be about two times longer, but this was getting waaaayyyy too long, so I had to cut it down. Scratch that, I just had to stop writing before my head exploded. A key change that may or may not make a difference: I originally said this takes place in November, but I changed it to September. This takes place in mid-September. Works better for my timeline. Also, Amity Park is in Illinois, in case I said Ohio somewhere in here. I usually switch between those two states and I forget which one I used in which story. Srry...

I like dropping foreshadowing clues in the text and so far I think only one person has gotten close to guessing what I have planned... *insert devil emoji here*

anyway, since that's all I have for you today, please drop a review on your way out, I would greatly appreciate it. Thanks!

Peace,

Rookey


	8. Murphy And His Goddamn Laws

Heart of a Hero

Murphy And His _Goddamn_ _Laws_

* * *

It's hard to lay a golden egg with everyone around  
It's hard to stay inside my head when words keep pouring out.

 _"It Gets Better" - Fun._

* * *

"You new to town or somethin'?" the newly-dubbed 'Wally West' asked Danny when he returned from giving Wu the kid's ridiculous order, and the kid's credit card. Danny would have helped prepare the food, but Wu had a strict "hands-off" policy when it came to his kitchen. Danny wasn't allowed near the food-making machines, despite the fact that he actually knew how to cook.

"Haven't seen you 'round Happy Harbor before," Wally continued absently, his eyes flickering around the restaurant in a hyperactive manner. How did this kid have so much energy? Danny was practically numb, the day's been so long.

It's almost like he was...

 _Dead on his feet._

Resisting the urge to laugh at his own joke, Danny chose instead to answer Wally's question, "Yeah, I'm pretty new. Moved here a few weeks ago."

"How're you liking it so far?" Wally asked, this time raising his eyebrow in curiosity. Like he actually _cared_ what Danny thought of this little Rhode Island city.

"It's alright," Danny answered truthfully after a moment, "Lots of people, that's for sure." It was true. Despite the fact that Happy Harbor was geographically a _small city,_ about _half_ the size of Amity Park, that didn't stop the onslaught of tourists from washing through in waves on any given day. It was easy to get lost here, which was good for Danny and bad for everyone on his backside.

Wally snorted, seeming to find that comment much funnier than Danny had intended it, "Got _that_ right!" He said. Wally's laugh kind of sounded like a hyena's, Danny noted vaguely. Kind of cackle-y and yell-y while being funnier to listen to than the actual joke. Only thing is Danny didn't really know what the joke _was_.

"What's with all the food, anyway?" Danny asked, feeling slightly defensive, for some odd reason. He wasn't sure what it was about this kid, but _something_ about Wally just wouldn't let Danny lower his guard. He felt a chill run down his spine and he rubbed the back of his neck absently. He tried to convince himself that there was _no possible way_ that Wally was a threat. This was a, what, fifteen-sixteen year old kid he was talking about! This Wally West character shouldn't be experienced in combat. He shouldn't have that stature and he shouldn't have that confidence. There were a lot of things about Wally that other teenagers didn't seem to have, but he did. And it set Danny on edge.

"Got some friends over," Wally answered Danny, rubbing his chin. Looked like a tic, like Danny's characteristic hand-to-the-back-of-the-neck routine. "We all eat a _ton._ 'Specially me, I gotta _fast_ metabolism." Wally ginned like he just cracked some sort of inside joke with himself. Danny didn't want to know; he didn't really care. But he had to be pleasant, right? And he would be lying if he were saying that he wasn't just the _slightest_ bit curious...

"Do you play sports or something?" Danny asked conversationally, half to fill the void of silence that would have otherwise formed between them while they waited for Wally's enormous order and half because Danny was hoping to pinpoint why he was feeling so uneasy.

"Totally, Track and Field's my _forte_ ," He responded, looking genuinely excited that Danny asked. Wally puffed out his chest proudly, "Seven-time regional champion, right here."

"Really?" Danny asked, now actually interested. "In what category?"

Wally smirked and Danny wanted to laugh at his smug naivety. "All of them," he said.

"All of them?"

"Yep! You're looking at the current reigning Track and Field champion of Keystone High." Danny nodded, eyebrows raised in interest. The accomplishment _was_ impressive, after all. To be that good at running or whatever-it-was that he did wasn't an easy feat - Danny knew that from the time _before_ he got his powers. Back then, he couldn't run to save his life.

 _Now,_ though...

Anyway, Wally's claim certainly explained the confidence the kid had and the athleticism that clearly showed through his damp and muddy clothes. Danny allowed himself to relax a little bit. He was overthinking things - again. _That_ was nothing new. Danny always did that.

But...

"Keystone High?" Danny asked, "I thought Happy Harbor High was the only high school in the area."

Wally cringed a little bit. Looks like, for whatever reason, he didn't mean to let that tidbit of information to slip. And he was definitely hoping that Danny wouldn't catch it. Now the question is... why? Why did this kid care if Danny knew where he went to school? It wasn't that big of a deal, after all. Danny's never heard of this 'Keystone High' before.

"It's a little ways outside of town," Wally said, albeit a little sheepishly, "I've got friends at Happy Harbor, though! Maybe you know them."

"Unlikely," Danny shrugged. He knew a diversion when he saw one, but he decided to let it go. Whatever this kid's problem was, it wasn't his business. Danny didn't want people snooping around in _his_ personal life after all, so why should he do it to theirs? "I just started today."

"You'll probably see 'em eventually," Wally waved Danny off. "You'll know 'em when you see 'em. They're like the power-couple of Happy Harbor High, but they won't admit it."

Danny almost _swore_ he heard, somewhere in the back of his mind, just out of his range of hearing, somewhere deep in his bones, Sam's muffled laughter. Yeah, if she were here, she _would_ be laughing. If not her, then Tucker _definitely_ would be. The couple that won't admit it? If Danny hadn't been so _clueless,_ he'd have pulled his head out of his own ass and at least _asked out_ the girl he _actually_ liked, instead of going for girls like Paulina. Girls that, as Sam would so-eloquently put it, "are so shallow that you could step in a puddle full of them and not get your feet wet."

"Let me guess," Danny joked, recalling the 'power-couple' of Casper High, "Head cheerleader and quarterback of the football team?"

Whatever Wally was about to say cut off suddenly as he stopped to stare openmouthed at Danny. "How did you know that?"

Danny snorted, "It's such a typical high school trope for the football player and the cheerleader to get together. I _guessed_ , man. It's the same thing for every high school."

Wally looked like he wanted to argue but stopped short. "True," He decided after a moment of silence. "Where _did_ you move from, anyway? Anywhere close by?"

Danny chuckled, but it came out a little forced. Man, he _hated_ this question. He always felt like he was giving too much away whenever someone asked. "The opposite, actually. I moved from California."

" _Ooohh,_ _Cali!_ " Wally exclaimed, "How were all the babes? California girls are _fine."_ He looked absolutely starstruck at the thought of girls from California.

He and Tucker, looks like, had the same mentality. They would have gotten along _swimmingly._

 _Bummer Tucker's not around anymore to chit-chat,_ Danny heard his own voice snap in his head. The guilt that he carried with him everywhere he went every-so-often seemed to take a consciousness of its own, like Danny's own personal Penelope Spectra. It wasn't exactly like a _voice_ in his head - it wasn't some separated identity or altered state of himself that he couldn't control - it was completely _him._ His own thoughts, his own guilt, making unwanted appearances and interrupting his life in seemingly random intervals. He could almost _hear_ the dry cackle that accompanied the words.

 _Looks like the talkative techie can't chit-chat with anyone anymore._

 _Wow, what a great friend you were, hero-boy._

Danny felt a bit of a _pang_ in his gut. _No,_ he wasn't going to reminisce about them now. Sam, the totally-not-a-hallucination-because-he-isn't-crazy Sam, did a pretty good job of knocking him off his self-pitying train on a one-way track to nowhere earlier that day. She had a point: Danny wasn't that... _thing -_ not yet. Thanks to Clockwork, Danny knew how that twisted future came about. He _knew_ that there was something he could do to stop that _thing_ from existing, and dammit, he was going to make sure _nobody_ _else_ suffered the way he had. Even if it was the last thing he ever did.

"Eh," Danny shrugged, remembering that Wally was, in fact, waiting for an answer to his question. "They're alright. Little shallow but the view was great." What? Despite everything, Danny was still a _teenage boy._ Of _course_ that's what he was looking at in his short stay in California.

He could practically _hear_ Sam's growl of displeasure. Yeah, yeah, Danny knew she'd disapprove, but hey you know what? Seventeen year-old teenage boys were essentially the same as fourteen year-old teenage boys, but with more hormones and a bigger vocabulary. Valerie said that to him once, while they were dating. Paulina did too, right after shutting Danny down after one of the times he tried asking her out.

Okay, maybe he would apologize to Sam the next time she chose to make an appearance. Or, the next time _his mind_ chose to make her appear.

That sounded weird. He was never going to get used to this whole "hallucination" thing. It just didn't _feel_ right.

"Nobody cares if they're shallow, man, the _view_ is what you really want to look for!" Wally exclaimed, waving his hands dramatically - in a sort of wide-sweeping motion, like a tour guide gesturing to the Grand Canyon while their fascinated tour group looked on.

Danny shrugged in response. Honestly, girls were on the bottom of his list of things-he's-thought-of lately. Sure the girls there were awe-inspiring in passing (it was hardly ever warm enough in Amity Park to warrant bikinis and short-shots, even though a select few did it anyway), but he honestly hasn't thought about it more than _just_ in passing. A fleeting moment, kind of a short term episodic instance where he may or may not have actually cared. Certainly not in the way that Wally seemed to.

"Have you been to California?" Danny asked, attempting to steer the conversation back to better-known territory.

"Oh, _tons_ of times. Got friends out there too, me and my uncle drop by all the time. Haven't been recently though, but I hear there's a lot of drama going on." Wally explained. This kid sure liked to talk, didn't he? Maybe he hated the void of silence as much as Danny did. He seemed to take much more of an active role in avoiding it, anyway.

"You seem to have friends all over the place," Danny observed.

"You have _no_ idea," Wally grinned. "I've got friends in Central City, Sterling City, Gotham City, Metropolis, and even some in Jump City - by the way, do you have any idea what happened over there? My friends in Jump said there's been a _whole_ lot of hoopla about _something_ just south of there, but I haven't been out west recently and nobody's givin' me a straight answer. You hear anything?"

Keeping his pokerface expression, Danny pretended to think for a moment, "You know, I think whatever happened must've happened after I left. It was all sunshine and oranges last time I checked."

Wally had this thoughtful expression on his face. "Huh," he said, "weird. Well, if you hear anything, don't be shy. Media's not all up in anyone's business yet about it."

"That's surprising," Danny commented. Usually the media was all over any sort of ectoplasmic activity in Amity Park... from a good football field's length away. But they were always _there,_ at least.

"That's what I said." Wally responded. "Which, so far as I can guess, means whatever happened was either really small and nobody really cared, or _really, really_ big."

"Are you one of those aliens-are-real, the-government's-keeping-secrets, we're-all-in-mortal-danger type conspiracy theorists?" Danny asked, a little sarcastically. He actually didn't mean to ask it, it kind of slipped out. And he would have regretted it if the kid didn't laugh.

"Ixnay the tinfoil hats and gigantic antennas, then hell yeah."

Danny had to laugh a little. Who was _he_ to judge what other people believed? He came from _Amity Park -_ the single most haunted city on the planet. How could _he,_ of all people, possibly dismiss the idea of aliens just because he's never seen one?

So I guess you could say Danny was one of those conspiracy theorists too.

"It's probably big," Wally continued, seeming to ride his train of thought as far as it would take him. "My friends near there said it wasn't _small_ , but even _they_ don't know what's going on. Apparently they called in some special government agency or whatever to investigate but they didn't have any luck-"

"Who did you say your friends were? Maybe I know them." Danny cut Wally off. He didn't like where this conversation was headed. Yeah, he _made a mistake_ in Canyon City and almost got himself exposed. But it wasn't _that bad._ There really wan't any reason for the huge fuss. He set off a _few_ sensors, but that was it! You'd think these people've never seen a ghost before.

Wally waved off Danny's question, "Not that important. Just some nosey inner-city kids that like getting involved in other people's business."

Danny shrugged, "That's understandable." _And relatable._

"But anyway _,_ did you move here with your parents?" Wally changed the direction of the conversation _again._ It was like a constant tug-of-war between the two of them. Danny would steer the conversation away from himself, but Wally would just flip it right around and shoot another personal question at Danny. It was like the kid _wanted_ to know more about Danny's past.

Almost like he was as suspicious of Danny as he was of him.

And this was when Danny really began cursing the hyperactive teenager, because he _hated_ that question. He thought for a moment, deciphering the best way to word the statement, 'I'm an emancipated minor and moved across the country by myself for no reason at all' without drawing any further attention to himself. The way the kid was looking him up and down was starting to creep Danny out. A long moment of silence passed between them, weighing heavily on both of their shoulders before Danny broke the void. "...Well-"

 _RING!_

Danny must have jumped a foot in the air. Wally looked like he actually _did_ jump a foot in the air.

"Order's up, Mr. West!" Wu called from the back of the restaurant, ringing the order bell a few more times for emphasis.

Wally mumbled something under his breath that sounded vaguely like, "I keep telling him to call me Wally, but _noooo."_

Danny was about to make some witty remark when: "Danny, help me package, please!" And with that statement, Danny thanked the heavens for the distraction. This conversation was getting uncomfortably personal. It was starting to feel like more of an interrogation than anything else.

Praising whatever God existed up in the clouds, Danny shot Wally a quick, "I'll be right out," before turning tail and all but sprinting to the kitchen.

* * *

It took about fifteen minutes between the two of them to wrap and package all of Wally's food. Well, primarily _Danny_ was doing the packaging - mostly out of his own stubborn insistence on taking part in the preparation of the food _somehow,_ since the poor old man made the vast majority of it while Mei waited on Douglas and Milton. She seemed excited for some reason, after ringing up their food and bidding them a found adieu. Mei didn't elaborate much before helping with the 'all of your fried wontons' part of Wally's order, except for the fact that she was excited for next Monday and "happy for them."

Danny assumed she'd go into more detail later, but not at the moment. Mei _was_ the more down-to-business half of the couple.

And he was just as fine packaging food in a comfortable silence with Wu, despite the fact that the man nearly insisted that Danny "go make friends with that Mr. West."

Danny appreciated the push for a social life - he _was_ an extrovert at heart - but he really didn't want to be left alone with Wally again. The kid, something about him, just didn't sit right with Danny. And he had an inkling feeling that Wally felt the same way about him, too.

But, five large packages containing countless amounts of smaller bags and boxes later, Danny was carrying the humongous assortment of food out into the main area of the restaurant and pretending to strain under the weight. He really didn't have any problem carrying it, but he had to keep up his "scrawny" appearance somehow, right? Wu trailed behind Danny, his attention focused on checking the prices on the yard-long receipt in his hands.

Wally jumped up from the armchair he was sitting on at the sight of his food. "Finally!" He exclaimed. He half-jogged up to Danny and tried to grab a few boxes. "Here, dude, let me help you out."

"Sign, first," Wu said, holding the long strip of paper and a pen out for Wally to take.

"Oh, right," He mumbled sheepishly, taking the receipt and the pen. He leaned up against the wall nearby and scratched in some spiky-looking signature.

Right as Wally handed the receipt back to Wu, his phone began to ring. It sounded like that one song from that new _Fast and Furious_ movie - what was it called, " _Ride Out"_? Something like that. Danny didn't really listen to that genera, but he remembered the movie (and the series) being fantastic.

The redhead stopped dead, almost a little frozen in place. His eyes grew wide for almost half an instant before he snapped upright, rod-straight, and whipped a cell phone out of his pocket. He shot an apologetic glance at Danny and mouthed "S _orry!"_ to him before speaking into the phone. "What's the scoop?" He asked. His tone took Danny aback. When Danny had spoken with him, Wally seemed slaphappy and goofy - it struck Danny as being a part of the kid's personality.

Now, though, he sounded like he dropped that tone, taking on something much more serious and to-the-point. Almost a little intimidating to onlookers.

"Really?" Wally groaned. " _Now?_ Dude, I just got food." He paused, expression changing from exasperated to determined, "Alright, fine. Be there in five." He tapped on his phone screen and slid it back into his pocket.

Wally sighed heavily. "Sorry guys," he said, "But apparently my friends need me to be somewhere. It's urgent, I gotta fly." He reached for the boxes from Danny, who handed them over happily. The weight of the boxes wasn't imposing, but the _size_ certainly was. And Danny was glad to be rid of it - the boxes pressed up against his face amplified the smell of cooked food and made his stomach churn in hunger.

"Do you need a ride?" Danny asked. Although he didn't necessarily _want_ to give Wally a ride in the company van because it meant more alone time with him, Danny wasn't about to let the kid just... _run_ back to wherever he came from in the middle of a storm. The rain was really coming down outside, and the booms of thunder still occasionally shook the restaurant and the flashes of lightning lit up the window frames.

Lightning always made Danny jump. Call it what you will: astrapophobia, a reflex, a twitch, a reaction - but lightning always set Danny on edge. Maybe _that_ was why he was got such strange vibes from Wally West. It wasn't the kid himself - it was the environment around them. It was a viable possibility and not one for Danny to simply dismiss.

And Danny'd feel like a horrible person if he didn't at least _offer._ And he was really expecting the still-damp kid to say yes, too. Wally's shoes were still waterlogged, making that awkward-sounding _swish-squish_ noise whenever he shifted his weight. His pants sagged low and dragged on the floor, weighed down by water and mud. And his leather jacket had certainly seen better days.

So Wally's answer actually surprised Danny.

"Thanks for the offer dude, but I'm gonna have to pass." The kid smiled sheepishly around the massive boxes of food, "It's really urgent that I get back to my friends... like, asap. It'll be faster this way. But thanks again."

Danny, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly agape in disbelief, couldn't do much other than nod dully. "I mean..." Danny stuttered, trying his best to shake off his shock. Even _he_ wasn't macho enough to refuse a free ride if it meant staying dry and keeping his food relatively undamaged. "...If you insist," Danny finished lamely. He wasn't going to argue. Wally might have had his reasons, right? Unless he was just insane, which was also a possibility. For all Danny knew, Wally West's decisions were probably rooted in a little bit of both.

If anyone, Danny could understand that.

"Thanks for the food, guys," Wally shot an award-winning smile at the old couple - who looked surprisingly unfazed by the boy's overall oddness - as he began to make his way to the front door. "And it was good to meet you, Danny."

"You too," Danny said automatically, making his way over to the rusted and shaking door and holding it open for the redheaded customer. The wind blew in Danny's face and he felt the cold bullets of rain pelting his person. Wally shot him a grateful smile and strolled outside into the rain, boxes hovering almost over his head. He seemed sure on his feet, somehow unaffected by the storm.

"Catch ya later," Wally said over the rain.

"Sure thing," Danny responded, that worried look still present on his face as he took one last hesitant look at the lanky teenager with the boxes of food before closing the restaurant door.

Silence followed as Danny stared confusedly at the completely unaffected Wu and Mei.

"Does that happen often?" Danny asked, jabbing a thumb at the door the kid just left through. He dared cast a glance over his shoulder to check the crazy kid's status, but Wally West was gone and the streets were dull, wet, and empty.

Mei laughed and Wu shot Danny a knowing wink. "Weird things happen in Happy Harbor, boy. Every day, something new." Danny managed a weak chuckle. He should feel right at home, then.

Wu glanced around the restaurant before checking the timepiece he kept in his pocket. It looked unrealistically old - maybe an heirloom or an antique. Danny was surprised it worked at all. "It's been long day," Wu decided after a moment, "take rest of night off. Go, sleep, eat, homework. Mei and I, we close up shop."

Danny smiled gratefully. He _was_ getting tired. Not physically, by any means, but just mentally. This whole day has been ridiculously long. He wouldn't mind laying on the couch in his apartment and staring blankly at the ceiling until some ungodly hour of the morning and waiting for his brain to reset itself. "Thanks, Wu, Mei," Danny said, making his way through the restaurant and up the flight of stairs in the very back, vaguely wondering how this day could _possibly_ get any longer and all but _lusting_ after his living room couch.

It wasn't until he entered his apartment did Danny realize how much he truly _hated_ Murphy and his _goddamn laws._

* * *

A/N: Chapter 8, done and done. I'm writing these as inspiration comes and I'm kind of experimenting with writing in general. Turns out, I tend to write in long sequences - where simple situations turn out to be 4,000+ words. I honestly dunno if that's good or bad lmao.

Beware, this author's note is loooonnnggg.

Before I start going into technical story stuff and general review responses, I just want to say something...

 ** _HOLY SHIT THIS STORY GOT HUGE._** I can't even effing believe it. 300 follows, 177 favorites, and 103 reviews? Not to mention 18k hits in just the shot(ish) amount of time I've had this thing up. I love you guys so much! Seriously!

 _Gaaaaaaahhhhhhh_

Okay, now that I've gotten that out of my system, we can get down to business.

I keep getting requests for me to speed things up. I _promise_ we're almost into the main plot of the story. Up until now ( _now_ as in next chapter), I've been doing a lot of setup and world building. Many of you have presented questions about the fact that I mentioned the Teen Titans last chapter, and mentioned them briefly in this one. According to the actual shows, Robin is in both the Titans _and_ the Team, and since he can't be in two places at once and I need him _here,_ in Happy Harbor, I've decided to put in a Robin-substitute in the Teen Titans. Maybe Batgirl (Barbra Gordon)? She doesn't join the Team 'til season two, after all, and we're still in season one. It's a possibility, so that's what we're going with. Anything's possible in an AU.

Someone also questioned my mention of Supergirl, too. Although this story focuses on the Young Justice aspect of the DC Universe, we're still in the _DC Universe._ DC has an absolute _wealth_ of characters scattered around the country (and the world) that I can possibly (or possibly not) use in the future so long as I briefly introduce them now. _And_ it ups the ante a little bit as far as Danny's whole running-from-the-heroes thing goes if I mention the scale of just how many people are after him/on his case. Am I making any sense? Hope so.

I think that answers a few questions without giving anything away. Like always, I love leaving foreshadowing clues in the text that readers have to look pretty hard for, so props to you if you figure out my plot-twists before I reveal them to you. But don't give 'em away *side-eyes the spoiler-alert readers in the audience*

Also, I really want to give a special shoutout to LunagaleMaster. Loved, loved, _loved_ your reviews and critiques and I really appreciate the help with my writing (I was writing this chapter with your advice in mind). Everybody still reading, _please_ do yourselves a favor and go check out her story **"** _ **Cell of a Splintered Past"** _ if you haven't already. It's awesome, and angsty, and realistic, and everyone's amazingly in character. The writing itself is on-par too, so I would highly recommend you give this story some more attention. Got it? Cool ;)

*deep breath* Okaaaaay, I think that's all I have for you.

Peace,

Rookey


	9. The Best Bad Idea

Heart of a Hero

The Best Bad Decision

* * *

But I think that we've all made our gravest mistakes,  
On the greatest intentions that we're too stubborn to let go.

 _The Dear Hunter - "Whisper"_

* * *

Remember how Danny said he hated Murphy and his _goddamn_ _laws?_

Yeah, this was why.

I bet you were expecting some ominous figure from his past to make an appearance in his apartment - perhaps Vlad Masters lounging on his couch or Valerie Gray aiming a gun at his head. Maybe you expected a Leaguer, possibly Batman or his sidekick looming ominously in the shadows and glaring venomously at Danny as if he were a criminal - a murder in the body of a teenager, a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Not that the last statement was entirely _false,_ which, in Danny's mind, it _wasn't,_ but Danny just had to thank _some_ sort of higher power that Murphy didn't hate him _that_ much.

Because the source of Danny's angst wasn't any of that mumbo-jumbo from this fucked-up life he's been living.

No, it was a radio. His radio, going absolutely ballistic with noise and static. Normally this wouldn't have been a big deal. Oh, so he left his radio on? Big whoop, the walls between the Nanjing Palace and his apartment were decently thick, so certainly nobody heard it. But unfortunately, it wasn't that simple because this wasn't just any radio.

Danny picked it up from the local thrift shop for almost free. The thing was broken and pretty much useless. Cords were snipped, metal was rusted, glass was cracked, it just wasn't worth the plastic stand it was built on.

So naturally, Danny had to bring it home.

He souped it up since he bought it. Channeling his inner Jack Fenton, Danny completely redid all the wiring and fixed the hardware so the thing probably worked better than it did when it was _new_. He gave it a silver paint job and scraped a tiny bright green F on the very bottom, just to complete the look. Not that he'd let anybody see _that_ part, of course.

The thing that separated this radio from other radios, though, was the fact that it was tuned into police sensors and radio frequencies. Danny always kept it running, but when activity began to spike or when a crime was in progress, the radio was built to spike in volume as well.

Just like how it was doing now.

 _"A silent alarm has been triggered at Benny and Barty's Jewelry Factory at the corner of First and Eighty-Fourth street. I repeat, a silent alarm has been triggered at Benny and Barty's Jewelry Factory on the corner of First and Eighty-Fourth street. Come in? A silent alarm has been triggered at Benny and Barty's Jewlery..."_ Danny turned down the raging volume, already feeling the blood rushing through his veins. First and Eighty-Fourth? That wasn't far from here. He could make it before the cops showed up, he thought, surely.

Danny nodded to himself. What was the harm? It could save the police a possibly grizzly showdown with a few armed idiots in the rain. Plus, Danny was beginning to think his rather... _nostalgic_ and _depressive_ mood lately could be attributed to his lack of heroism. Come to think of it, he hasn't saved anyone in a few _months._ Which, being that heroism was his _ghostly obsession,_ wasn't good.

See, ghosts, although not inherently _evil,_ were obsessive in nature. Although this was rather common knowledge, it was less commonly known that ghosts weren't just obsessive-compulsive spirits working towards meaningless and sometimes unachievable causes. Ghosts didn't just treat an obsession like a side-cause or a hobby, or even a career of choice. Nor were they mad with addiction towards their chosen obsession or manically consumed or gripped with the compulsive need to fulfill their respective purposes. Sometimes that was in fact the case, but a true _ghostly_ _obsession_ ran deeper than some gripping addiction that one just couldn't shake.

It was a matter of their mere _existence_. Or, at the very least, their _sanity._ See, ghosts didn't attempt to fulfill their obsessions out of the desire to see them fulfilled. They worked towards their chosen goals as a means of survival - for not only themselves, but for everyone around them.

Confused? Let me word it this way. Ghosts were like ticking time bombs. Every time they worked towards their chosen obsession, their internal clock would reset itself, therefore prolonging and every-so-often _preventing_ an otherwise inevitable explosion that would not only kill them, but everyone around them.

 _But_ , you might state with some degree of deluded certainty, _ghost's can't die_. And I can tell you with absolute finality that you would be completely right. Ghosts can't _die,_ in the literal sense of the word - as they will continue to exist until their obsession is completely fulfilled - but whatever humanity they had left in their post-conscious forms _can._ A ghost starved of their obsession for too long will lose their humanity and turn into something more sinister, something insane, something one can only call _evil._

They're called ghouls. However, most call them _demons._

 _Those_ were the abominations Jack and Maddie Fenton were talking about all that time, although they were not aware that ghosts and ghouls were _not_ one in the same. Ghouls were the monsters under the bed. They were the boogymen that parents warned their kids about at night. _They_ were the eyes on your back as you walked home from work and the cold chill that rattled your spine as you stand quivering before an empty room. Ghouls were the shadows just out of sight, the nightmares that haunted your sleep.

The real, physiological difference between ghosts and ghouls? Ghosts worked towards achieving an obsession by any and all means necessary. Ghouls? They didn't _care._ Their purpose? In short: _you._ Ghouls wanted you. Your _body_ , your _soul_ , your _family_ , your _friends_ , your _children,_ and _anything else_ you hold dear. A ghoul's only obsession is to consume and destroy the living. Ghouls coveted what they couldn't have - youth, life, comfort, and happiness. So, they _stole it_ instead.

Another difference? A ghoul's true form was a _hell_ of a lot uglier than a ghost's.

And this is the best part, ready for it? Unlike the concept of ghosts, ghouls weren't known by the general populous. Often passed off as a myth or used as a synonym for "ghost," ghosts and ghouls alike took great care in keeping this dirty little undead secret hidden from the living, and God only knew why. Danny only knew after a ghost, unknowing of his halfa status, told him - and only after a great deal of coaxing on Danny's part. Ghouls are a ghosts' fears personified. They're a human's worst nightmare.

Oh, and here's the _real_ kicker. Unlike a ghost, a ghoul can take on one _hell_ of a human disguise. They have no ghostly aura. The only _real_ way to tell a disguised ghoul from a human was their effect on people and the environment around them. People often took their own lives in the presence of a ghoul. Plants withered and died. Animals became sick, often going missing and ending up dead. Cars wrapped around trees. Homicides became frequent. The living began to lose their humanity.

Danny's only ever met one ghoul. Her name was Penelope Spectra, and sometimes Danny just couldn't get her intoxicating voice and nightmarish shadowy face out of his head. It haunted him to this day, some two and a half years later.

Luckily, Danny wasn't at risk of turning into a ghoul - at least, not until his human persona died out (assuming he still remained a ghost), but he _was_ at risk of going insane if he held off on the whole "hero-complex" thing for too long.

Danny knew what "Dark Phantom" looked like, and it wasn't a pretty sight. It was shudder-inducing, honestly. It gave him the chills, and not the good kind.

Drawing himself back to reality, Danny let out a shaky breath. He dropped his school bag and pulled a dark hoodie over his long sleeved "work" shirt. Throwing up the hood and grabbing his small, light survival backpack (the one he carried with him out of paranoia more than anything else), he allowed his invisibility to wash over his form as he disappeared out the main room window.

* * *

Although Danny's access to his ghostly abilities was somewhat limited in his human form, both in power and variety, he was still able to do the little things. Like flying, for instance. Although he wasn't capable of long distances in his human form, flying came relatively easily to him in either form he took. Flying as a human took about as much effort as staying grounded as a ghost.

And it was a good thing Danny could fly in his human form, too. He couldn't afford to transform, not if he wanted his cover blown. Danny lit up as an 8.34 on the Ectoplasmic Energy Scale, and there wasn't a doubt in Danny's mind that he would light up every ghost meter or set off every alarm on the East Coast. His ghostly persona was powerful, and the thing about powerful ghosts was that they weren't inconspicuous.

In his _human form,_ however, Danny only lit up as a 4.3 on the Scale - and that was at his full capacity. Nowhere near _close_ to the minor stunts he planned on pulling in the time he spent messing with heroics in Happy Harbor. Luckily for him, the Guys in White rarely ever came after anything below a 5.3, probably because they assumed local ghost hunters could handle it. Why send in the SWAT team in for a couple of idiots robing a bank with no hostages when the local police officers can more than handle it? It was a waste of resources for the Guys in White to go after every ghost they picked up on. Why waste materials when you didn't have to?

So, Danny had reason to believe that he was _more than fine_ flying quickly to the corner of First and Eighty-Fourth street, invisible and untouchable to anyone in the rainy city below.

Danny touched down before he knew it. His feet landed on the ground with a gentle _splish_ of muddy rainwater that promptly trailed off into silence as the water passed through his intangible sneakers. Danny looked at the store in front of him. Benny and Barty's Jewelry Factory really wasn't that big. It was more of a _corner_ _shoppe_ than a _factory,_ as the name suggested. It was pretty unappealing, honestly. Danny wondered if it was really worth the effort and eventual embarrassment for these guys to rob this place. It was completely unassuming.

The door of the store was slightly ajar, pried open by the crowbar that laid stranded and soaked on the ground. He walked to the front door and phased into the jewelry store, the dull clattering sound of rain silencing around him as the roof materialized over his head.

Silence swelled around him. Well, to anyone else it would have been "silence." But Danny knew much better than that. Without even looking around, he could hear the soft thumping of four different hearts beating from deep within the darkened store. He could feel their heavy breathing reverberating through the air and their muddy boots making disgusting-sounding _squashes_ on the floor. Must be their first rodeo, Danny thought, because experienced criminals took much better care to be as undetected as possible. A _human_ could hear these guys.

Breathing out a silent yet heavy sigh and feeling a chill run down his back, from either excitement or nerves or something else he didn't know, Danny glided further into the store and squinted in the dark. Half a second later, he saw them.

Just like Danny assumed, there were four of them. Big men, Danny observed critically, each at least six feet tall. They wore black ski masks over their faces, very generic, paired with black outfits and bags. They looked like members in a heavy metal band, Danny smirked at the thought. They were currently raiding the jewelry displays and shoving the treasures into their bags. Absorbed. They had no idea Danny was there. They weren't paying attention to the feel in the air, the classic feeling of being watched that came when a ghost appeared in the room. They weren't shuddering. There wasn't any observable reaction.

... Unless you looked closely. When he squinted, Danny could see their beady black eyes flickering around in the dark. They could _feel_ Danny there. They _knew_ they weren't alone. There was a chill running up their spines right at this very moment, and the hairs on the back of their necks were probably on edge.

That was a side effect of being part-paranormal. Humans had survival instincts that kicked in every so often when in Danny's presence, particularly if they have never come across a ghost before. Their sixth-senses really began to peak when Danny used his powers. Humans, although less so than animals, felt the need to survive, to flee when ghosts were around. And since Danny was part ghost, he usually made _real good_ first impressions.

Danny grinned. They weren't paying attention, despite the automatic and probably subconscious reactions that could be expected out of anybody.

This could be _so much fun._

Somewhere inside him, Danny's always wanted to do this.

Double-checking his invisibility, Danny swept up to the nearest robber. In doing so, he kind of wanted to gag. _God,_ this guy must not have bathed in _days._ He reeked of body oder and something else that smelled like a mixture of half-blood and half-gasoline, a vague, bitter almond-y smell that Danny couldn't quite describe. He almost didn't _want_ to know.

As fast as lightening, Danny swiped the bag from the unsuspecting robber and kicked his feet out from under him. Big Guy Number One grunted a startled "What the fuck?" as he lost his footing and fell on his ass, his bag ending up disappearing into thin air as Danny held onto it.

Danny grinned and slid the bag away from Number One, allowing it to reappear once it left his grasp. He didn't give Number One or his friends enough time to register what was going on before he delivered a solid kick to the robber's head and he went completely limp. KO'd, in record time.

Danny's accomplishment was quickly forgotten about as Number One's friends quickly regained their senses and, as expected, went batshit crazy.

"George!" One guy exclaimed in shock, drawing out a very, _very_ large gun from somewhere behind him. God, it just wasn't _necessary_ for some small-time robbery like this. How did he even get his _hands on_ something like that? "What the hell man, get the fuck up! We gotta finish this job!"

"Bobby," The guy standing near the register said in confusion, "I think he's down." Setting his face into what Danny could only _assume_ was a mask of determination, register guy pulled out _his_ equally large gun and started waving it around in 'George's' general direction. "Who's there?! Who you think you are, messin' with our jobs? You hidin' or somethin'? Get your ass out here like a _real_ man! Show yourself!"

 _As if,_ Danny thought, making his way over to Register guy. He looked the angriest out of the three left standing, and he was waving that gun around like a six-year-old with a new toy fishing rod.

Biting his tongue from snapping some kind of snappy comeback, Danny stomped on the man's foot and swiped the gun right out of his hands, knocking the butt of the gun against his forehead hard enough to knock him right out.

Humans are so _fragile,_ Danny thought with a shake of his head. He didn't hit the man _that_ hard, yet he was completely _out_.

Register guy fell to the floor without another word, and Danny turned back around. At this point, 'Bobby' and Guy Number Four, let's call him 'Joe', were standing frozen in their respective places, 'Bobby' by the window and 'Joe' in the very back of the shop.

"...What the _hell?!" '_ Bobby' exclaimed, beady black eyes bulging through the ski mask in half shock and half terror. He was closest to the front door, Danny noticed immediately as he contemplated which one to take out first. He really needed to get this over with - he didn't want to be here when the police showed up, which could be at any time now.

Danny all but flew at 'Bobby' and threw a hard roundhouse kick right at his gut. 'Bobby' doubled over and gagged, leaving him prone and open to Danny's solid punch in the side of the head. 'Bobby' fell over, still and unmoving. Wiping his palm free from the sweat that bled through 'Bobby's' flimsy ski mask, Danny turned to the last criminal.

'Joe' didn't need to be told twice, let alone three times. He dropped his loot and _booked it_ for the front door, slamming into counters and knocking over displays in the process. Danny stood in his path, and thinking quickly, held out an invisible yet _very much solid_ foot.

Danny almost blew his cover with the laugh that _almost_ escaped from his lips as 'Joe' tripped on Danny's invisible foot and came crashing to the floor like a freight train flying full-speed over a cliff. "P-Please, dude," 'Joe' began to ramble, scared out of his mind at whatever invisible thing decided to follow them into the jewelry factory. "I'll do anything, j-just please d-don't kill me!"

Danny cocked an eyebrow. What? He may have hit the other guys pretty hard, but Danny knew his own strength. They weren't _dead -_ they'd be fine in a few hours and they would probably wake up with some _killer_ headaches.

But what did they really expect?

Before he could stop himself, Danny quipped sarcastically, "Who said anything about _killing you?"_ He then delivered a _beautiful_ sucker punch to the robber's face, forcing him into submission just as easily as the others.

Danny sighed, looking around the store. He checked the cameras when he first walked in - all blown or blocked out. At least these bozos did _something_ right _._

He was honestly about to leave before he took one more look around. Danny groaned. This place was a _mess._ And humans had this incredible ability to unexpectedly recover before you could so much as say anything about it. What if Danny overestimated how hard he hit them and they escaped before the cops showed up? _That_ would suck.

He groaned aloud. _Fine._ Cleanup time.

* * *

A little less than a few minutes later, Danny had tied all four of them up in the center of the room with some rope he had found in one of their bags. They were all still out cold, heads hanging limply and bodies not so much as twitching. Admiring his handiwork, Danny was just about to grab their almost-loot and lay it in plain sight for the police when a rush of yellowish-red light out of the corner of his eye made him stop dead, frozen.

He could hear another heartbeat. It was fast and almost indecipherable, but _there._

Danny was no longer alone.

Silently, the part-paranormal teenager turned around to the source of the disturbance.

The blood drained from Danny's face. Why, you ask? Because suited in a yellow and red jumpsuit, a fair-skinned, carrot-topped hero stood confidently and almost threateningly in the doorway of the store, his eyes wide and obviously startled by the most likely strange sight before him.

Danny felt his pulse quicken. His thoughts were racing a million miles an hour. What was _Kid Flash,_ the _Flash's_ _apprentice,_ member of the _Justice League,_ doing _here,_ in _Happy_ _Harbor_?

Danny knew he should get the hell out of Dodge. Because _holy shit Kid Flash was here!_

But there was a part of him, probably the stupid and reckless part of him, that planted his invisible feet to the ground. It was the part that kept repeating inside his head: _W_ _hy was Kid Flash here? Why was Kid Flash here? Why was Kid Flash here?_

The teenaged Justice League member looked around, completely baffled at the sight of the already-resolved crime before him. He brought a hand to his lightening bolt-shaped earpiece and spoke into it, "Uh... guys? You might want to hurry up. We've got a... _situation_ , here."

 _Guys? Hurry up?_ Who the fuck else was _coming?_ More Justice League members, no doubt. But who? The Flash? Superman? _Batman?_

Oh God. Danny suddenly felt the need to throw up. He would be _screwed_ if it was Batman. There was a _reason_ why Danny avoided Gotham City like it was the plague. Danny was willing to risk Happy Harbor - because what hero would look _here? -_ but there was _no way_ he was stupid enough to risk _fucking Gotham City._ So if Batman was _here,_ him or his sidekick - what's his name, Robin? - Danny would need to figure out another place to stay. Toronto, Canada was a safe bet. Alaska? It would be one hell of a road trip, but Danny could swing it.

He would just need to get as far away from here as fast as he could. Although Danny's past was hard to piece together at first sight, he was completely confident that the World's Greatest Detective could figure him out in his _sleep._

Danny wanted to run. He could feel his leg muscles beginning to tighten as he subconsciously prepared to leap off the ground and phase through the ceiling. There was a sudden tightness in the back of his throat. Oh God, he felt like seriously throwing up. Or screaming, he wasn't quite sure. But he planted his feet and stood locked in place as he waited for whoever Kid Flash was talking to to show up.

Danny needed to know who all he was dealing with, here.

He didn't have to wait for long. Not fifteen and a half seconds later (he counted the tense seconds in a chilling state of unease), the "guys" Kid Flash was talking about made an appearance. Danny could hear three pulses approaching the store, careful steps _sploshing_ in the rainwater outside. Danny winced as the door of the shop swung open with a harsh _bang,_ and three dark silhouettes stood at the frame.

By now, Kid Flash was well into the store, inspecting Danny's handiwork and checking the status of the knocked out men. Danny had backed himself against the back wall of the shop, prepared to phase through it at a moment's notice. He still felt sick. Oh God, he couldn't _afford_ to let the Justice League find him, either as Fenton _or_ as Phantom. But they didn't have ghost detectors, right? No, no way. The Guys in White were nothing if not prideful. There's _no way_ they'd lend the Justice League any ghost hunting equipment, despite the fact that their actual _equipment_ wasn't even _theirs._ Danny's parents' research was the foundation of most modern-day ghost hunting. The GIW got equipment from Danny's parents, yet they claimed their weaponry was their own.

Okay, okay, okay. Danny needed to _relax._ Panicking would just blow his cover. He couldn't panic. Couldn't panic. Couldn't panic. _Wouldn't_ panic. He wouldn't. He _couldn't._

"KF?" One of the silhouettes spoke, making Danny jump. _Shit,_ he wasn't calm yet. He's been in tighter jams than this, after all, and he had a _means_ of escape. Danny was _fine._

They came into the store, where the faint glow from the emergency lights lit their forms just enough for Danny to see them clearly. There were three of them, the biggest standing at a solid six-foot-something with dark skin and blond hair. He donned a tight red shirt and black pants. There were strange mechanical devices strapped to his back, probably some kind of weapons Danny hasn't seen before. Odd black tattoos ran up and down his arms. Broad shoulders. Long legs. Big feet. Definitely an athlete - a swimmer, if Danny were to guess. Skilled in combat, lots of strength, little agility, so far as Danny could tell. Aqualad - Danny's seen him before. He used to read comic books about him and his mentor, Aquaman, before everything started happening.

The second was another boy. He was big and bulky, with bulging muscles and a mean-looking glare. He had fair skin, short-cropped black hair, blue eyes, and a tough-looking jawline. Superboy, Danny knew it right away. He could tell from the House of El Coat of Arms on the boy's chest. The S-shaped symbol everyone thought stood for Superman but actually didn't. Danny knew Superboy should have intimidated him, but he could feel the inexperience radiating from the super-powered teen in waves. By the expression on his face, Danny could place a bet and say it was easy to piss this kid off. But by the bulging muscles and from what Danny knew about Super _man,_ he would have to avoid facing this guy in a brute-strength fistfight.

The third, Danny didn't quite recognize right away. He immediately linked her to the Martian Manhunter due to the green skin and the red-X on her chest, but he's never seen her with the Manhunter before - nor did he know much about the Manhunter in general. Which, in hindsight, was a critical oversight on his part that he would probably come to regret later. After all, you had to know your enemies about as well or better than you knew yourself, right?

The girl looked like she could pose as a very real threat. She had flaming red hair and amber-colored eyes that pierced through the air around them as if they could see into your very soul. She was wearing a white shirt with the red-X in the center, a blue skirt, and a blue cape. Vaguely, he wondered how she did heroine-type things in a skirt. Despite everything, and how many ways in which she and her little "team" could ruin Danny's week, he still had to admit that he had some amount of respect for that. She had long legs, probably fast and dangerous in combat when not engaged in a battle of brute-strength. She had a lithe form, probably good with agility.

But her aura was different than the other two. Her feel, the general vibe Danny got from her was something along the lines of tender and understanding, while Aqualad's was analytical and Superboy's was outright aggressive.

Okay, _now_ Danny was relieved. No Batman. No Robin. Just sidekicks from some random assortment of Leaguers. He was _fine._

At least, that's what Danny thought until Manhunter's sidekick (as far as Danny could assume... maybe she was a relative? A daughter, a niece maybe? Family friend, second cousin?) turned her head to the back of the store, amber eyes alight with something along the lines of confusion mixed with suspicion while the other three rambled among themselves, analyzing the rope Danny used and the way in which he resolved the attempted robbery. Danny wasn't worried about them anymore, anyway.

He was more concerned with the fact that her eyes were trained on _him,_ invisible, pressed against the back wall of the store.

There were a variety of words repeating over and over in Danny's head on an endless loop right about now. They were all very inappropriate and not suitable for kids under the age of at least sixteen, so repeating them here could get me in trouble.

Danny felt frozen, trapped under her gaze. It was like she could _see_ him as if he had no invisible barrier to cover him. Which, by the way, Danny _knew_ wasn't true because he could feel the dull pulse of invisibility throbbing along his very-much human form. He was _invisible._

How did she know he was there? Was it coincidence that she just so happened to be staring right at him? Did she space out? Was she really looking _through_ him, and not _at_ him like he thought?

Then Danny remembered something critical and he wanted to slap himself for the oversight. It was a snap memory, one of those memories that hit so suddenly that you almost jump when it comes to you.

The Martian Manhunter was famous for shape-shifting. Do you want to know what else the Martian Manhunter was famous for?

Telepathy.

And if the Manhunter could do that, then was it really that much of a stretch to assume that this girl, whoever she was to him, could do it too?

On the verge of a panic attack, you could imagine Danny's surprise when the most peculiar and outright convenient thing happened in that very moment.

A flashing white strobe light lit up throughout the store accompanied by a blaring alarm, making all the store's occupants jump about a foot in the air.

The fire alarm was going off. Smiling to himself and thanking the heavens that this strange... _happening,_ happened when it did, Danny phased through the wall and out into the street, right as the sprinkler system began to activate and the police finally, _finally_ raced around the corner, red, blue, and white lights flashing in the pouring rain.

 _Goddamn,_ what a night. At this point, it was very, _very_ clear that Danny wasn't going to sleep a wink.

* * *

A/N:BOOM. Merry Christmas/happy holidays, there's your action. Just to note, because there seems to be some confusion, I had no intention of speeding my pace with this story because it's my story and I do what I want :D Last chapter, I was just informing you that the action started in the next chapter - or I guess the _now_ chapter. As in now. Welcome to the main plot ladies and gentlemen, you've braved the storm of world-building and have now hopped from the frying pan and into the oven.

Although I'm still world-building. Slightly. Lol.

Over the past however-long I've been in this phandom (we still calling it that?), I've developed a lot of headcanons as to why things are the way they are (it gives my brain something to do). I went over a few of my headcanons regarding how Danny turned into a halfa and why he survived the accident in my oneshot titled " _The Cake and the Cobbler Theory"_ *insert shameless self-promotion here* which you should _totally_ check out if you're interested. I plopped a few headcanons in here, like the distinction between a ghost and a ghoul, which isn't actually that far off from the lore about ghouls. Just with a... _Warm Bodies_ zombie movie-type twist. Idk, one minute it wasn't in the text and the next it... was. lol.

QUESTION TIME! So! I was in the shower and thought of this, but what if I made a companion story to this one, from the Team's point of view? You'd have the League's perspective on the whole Amity Park/Phantom issue, since _Heart of a Hero_ is majorly Danny-centric. I was thinking it could be interesting, but of course I wouldn't start it until this one is at the very _least_ at its climax. Which, by the way, is a _long_ way off. Good idea? Nah? Tell me what you think in a review! Thanks!

Peace,

Rookey


	10. 1,001 Reasons to Stay

Heart of a Hero

1,000 Reasons to Leave, 1,001 Reasons to Stay

* * *

Like a bull chasing the matador is the man left to his own schemes  
Everybody needs someone beside em' shining like a lighthouse from the sea

 _"Brother" - NEEDTOBREATHE_

* * *

Danny didn't sleep a wink.

Honestly, how could he? The _Justice League's sidekicks_ crashed his party. What were they doing in Happy Harbor? They weren't _needed here!_ Why would they bother with some petty crime? _That was pointless!_ The police could have handled it. Danny had the situation _under control._

It was fine _. Beyond_ fine _._

So why were a random assortment of sidekicks crashing _his_ party? For some stupid and trivial robbery, _four Justice Leaguers_ seemed a little excessive.

Were they on to him? Did they know Danny was there? The girl with the red hair certainly thought so. What if she told the rest of them? And what the hell was up with the fire alarm? Coincidences like that really _didn't_ happen to him. The world wasn't that nice. Nothing was meaningless.

At first, Danny thought it was a new power. He dismissed that theory pretty fast - telekinesis was extremely hard to use and something like unconsciously pulling a fire alarm he couldn't directly see was a bit beyond his skill level.

His next thought was a ghost. But that didn't make any sense either since his ghost sense didn't go off. In fact, he didn't sense anyone other than the robbers and the Leaguers in the bank at all. No other heartbeats, no other footsteps, no other talking.

It crossed his mind that someone tripped the alarm by accident. But he had eyes on all the Leaguers in the room - no one was even _close_ to a fire alarm.

It also briefly crossed his mind that there could have been a _real_ fire _,_ but that was also unlikely. There's no way a _fire_ could have slipped not only his notice, but the sidekicks' notices as well.

These thoughts spun around in his mind like ballet dancers on Ritalin all night long as he stared at the popcorn ceiling of his apartment, twiddling his thumbs and anxiously waiting for the sun to rise, jumping every now and again as the lightening continued to flash and the thunder continued to bang.

The building shook as the rain poured outside. A shiver crawled up his back as Danny could hardly contain his paranoia. Oh God, he was going to have a panic attack. If the Justice League found him _, in either form,_ he'd be a goner.

As a ghostly criminal guilty of a massive crime against humanity, the Justice League would be obligated to turn him over to the GIW to "protect humanity." Even if the League, by some twist of fate, believed him to be innocent, the Anti-Ecto Control Act was still in effect - all ghosts in the human realm were automatically property of the Guys in White for scientific and experimental purposes.

As a human and a minor, they were obligated to turn him over to his legal guardian, _Vlad Masters._

There was no way for Danny to possibly _win_ if the Justice League ever found him.

He could skip town. Danny's never been _that close_ to any Leaguer before. Sure, he's seen a few at a distance. He thought for sure he saw Supergirl in the sky when he was hiding out in California, but she must have been miles up and he didn't stay in town much longer after that.

The redheaded girl must have been a _few feet away from him._

Yeah, Danny couldn't risk being in Happy Harbor much longer.

 _But,_ his mind unhelpfully interjected, _what about Wu and Mei and the Nanjing Palace?_ Right. The couple really needed his help, whether they wanted to admit it or not. God, he wanted to scream. _This_ is exactly why he didn't want to make connections in this town - it made leaving _so_ _much_ _harder_. And it certainly didn't help that Danny was a deeply empathetic person by nature. He knew that his help meant the world to the elderly couple, and leaving them meant hurting them.

Danny most certainly did _not_ want to do that.

It must have been three in the morning, and Danny was driving himself insane. His thoughts kept going around in circles with wildly different scenarios enacting in his mind's eye and not allowing him to relax. When one image would fade, another would take its place. It was a catch-22 situation.

Fine, you know what? He wasn't going to get anything done tonight. He could decide his plan in the morning. Maybe, if he thought hard enough, he could bring Sam the not-hallucination out of the dark, obscure corner his mind had saved for her and ask for advice. She really gave him a proper kick-in-the-pants on the pier not too many hours ago, in a way that only Sam was able to do... maybe she could do it again?

Besides, even if the redheaded girl knew he was there, what was the likelihood of her knowing exactly who he was?

Unless... unless she _did_. Unless she _knew._

Jeez, it was going to be a _long_ night.

* * *

The next day at school, Danny was much more of a wreck then he would care to admit.

The whole day, he thought he was going to have an aneurysm. He knew seeing those sidekicks wasn't as big of a deal as his mind was making it out to be, but Danny was _famous_ for overthinking just about everything. He was suddenly suspicious of the way people were looking at him (which they were justified in doing because Danny's still the _new kid,_ after all), the way people walked and talked and interacted around him (it's _normal,_ he tried to assure himself), and the way they all meshed together and ignored his presence (they did that at Casper, too). _Everything_ was bothering Danny. This, this, _this_ was paranoia. He had this knotting sensation in the pit of his stomach and he felt the continuous urge to vomit.

By third period, Danny's skin was practically crawling. He had this government-type class called Civics - located in a rather scenic classroom on the second floor of the school with a whole bunch of windows lining the walls and a lot of bright sunlight shining through. His teacher was some guy in his early twenties by the name of Mr. Carr, who's shaggy hair brown and scruffy goatee gave him an overall laid-back appearance. His frame wasn't one to dismiss - he had those broad shoulders and that balanced stance that Danny always watched out for. He could have been a fighter at one point, and possibly was still capable of it, but Danny was fairly certain that he wasn't a threat. He didn't bother with too many formal introductions which, of course, Danny was grateful for.

He seemed like a pretty cool guy, not that Danny took much notice. The teenager knew he was going insane - he felt watched, studied, stared at like a lab rat by his peers - although hardly anyone even glanced glanced in his general direction. The same episode kept playing in his head on repeat: The Justice League finding his hideout, right in their clutches, and seizing the Nanjing Palace just to get to him. He kept seeing himself tied up in some rope they probably made ghost-proof somehow, held captive by Superman and taken to their base. He could see himself being strapped to a table and interrogated by Batman, and Danny choking on his words and being unable to give the entire story.

He kept getting visions of being turned over to the Guys in White and from there, his imagination wandered into horrifically morbid territory.

Before the explosion, Danny used to have nightmares about what those guys could do to him. They may have always been incompetent when it came to actual _hunting_ , but they sure were cruel. And when they figured out what Danny really was, well...

You could say that Danny would never see the light of day again.

It freaked him out that this reoccurring nightmare was so close to becoming a reality.

Danny almost jumped a solid foot in the air when someone poked him from the desk directly behind where he was seated. So as to not make a scene, Danny glanced over his shoulder, attempting to calm his racing heart and keeping his clenched fists under the table.

 _Oh._ It was just a kid, laid back in his seat with his feet propped up on the desk. Scrawny, light, and Danny could probably dropkick him across the room if he felt like it. He had a plain face, with shaggy brown hair hidden underneath a green beanie. He shot Danny a wide crooked smile and, to Danny's absent-minded horror, began talking. "Hi!" The kid said, disregarding Mr. Carr, who was still lecturing the class.

"Um," Danny started, eyeing the teacher who didn't seem to notice the two teenage boys seated at the back of the classroom at all. "...Hi."

"You're the new kid, right?" The kid said, removing his feet from the desk and leaning forward so he could better talk to Danny. He held out a friendly hand at Danny's nod, "Name's Marvin. Marvin White. Nice t'meetcha."

"Yeah," Danny responded in a low voice. "Uh, I'm Danny." He eyed the hand in suspicion. Danny tried to avoid physical contact with humans as much as he could - he was always colder to the touch due to his cold core. It sometimes freaked people out. But he took the hand anyway, hoping the temperature of the room would keep this Marvin kid from noticing the difference. "Good to meet you, too."

"Where'd'ya come from, huh?" Marvin asked, breaking the shake and giving Danny a look that vaguely reminded him of a child in a candy store.

"Just moved here from California," Danny said, nodding to the boy and wondering why on earth the scrawny teenager cared.

" _California?_ That's sure a long ways away. What brings ya here?"

"Change of scenery." Danny stated simply. Enough questions _,_ what on earth did this kid _want?_

"Understandable," Marvin nodded. "Did you ever see any celebrities?" Great, now his eyes were wide and he looked like he wasn't going to drop it.

"Um," Danny thought for a moment, wondering if that one Leaguer he saw briefly counted. He could always snap back 'Yeah, I looked in a mirror,' but Danny figured that wouldn't go over well. He had to at least _try_ to be friendly, right? "I think I saw a Kardashian from a distance, but I have no idea." Danny paused before asking a question of his own. Particularly, one that's been weighing on his mind, "I know Mount Justice is pretty close to here, do you guys usually see any Justice League members?"

At this, Marvin grinned. "Man, those guys are so _cool!_ We don't see 'em too often 'round here, but they drop by sometimes."

"Does Batman ever come by?" Danny asked. Out of all the Leagues he knew he had to avoid, Batman ranked at the very top of his list. He may just be human, but that hero was brilliant. And above all, ruthless. Danny was sure he could reason with Superman if he tried and probably the same with the others, too. But Batman? Not so much. "He's my favorite."

Marvin broke out in an easy laugh, looking Danny up and down - probably judging Danny's dark attire. "I can tell. I haven't seen him, but one of my friends _swears_ she's seen Robin one time. I dunno if I believe her."

 _They don't come by often._ That's what Danny was getting. And if they didn't come by often, then Danny could relax a bit. Those heroes he saw? It was probably a one-time thing. He shouldn't be so worried.

Easier said than done.

"Hey," Marvin said, leaning forward a little bit more so as to make sure Danny heard him, "You seem like a cool kid. Me and some friends were gonna grab lunch after class, you wanna join?"

 _Right._ Danny nearly forgot that lunch came directly after this class. Since he had one more class after lunch, he couldn't leave, either. He's been so anxious all day that he totally forgot about the state of his appetite. Danny was _starving._

"Sure." Danny said before he could stop himself. Sure he _wanted_ to just find some spot under a tree and eat alone, but the _"friends"_ part of his overall plan wasn't lost on him, either. Friendships meant alliances. The more alliances he had, the better - so long as he didn't form too many emotional connections in Happy Harbor. It was bad enough he couldn't get himself to up and skip town because of Wu and Mei, he didn't need any _more_ reasons to stay here.

Marvin's grin grew into a full-fledged smile. " _Great!_ We usually like to chill outside, you can just follow me."

"Gotcha."

"Cool, I'm sure they'd all be _psyched_ to meetcha."

* * *

It was a rather nice Tuesday afternoon. The overcast skies were a light shade of pristine steel-gray, high-hanging, reminiscent from the storm the night before. The chances of rain were said to be slim, and Danny believed it. There was a cool breeze that brushed past the teenagers sitting outside every once and a while and to Danny, it was a nice relief from the hot, stuffy school he's been crammed in for the past several hours.

Marvin White, a full head shorter than Danny when the smaller boy stood to his full height, turned out to be a skater boy, an alien fanatic, and a total superhero nerd. And super _villains,_ too. Marvin seemed to know a whole lot about those. According to the overly-friendly local, just about everyone at Happy Harbor High was into the whole "superhero scene," which honestly, Danny should have expected. It would be _weird_ for the locals to _not_ be at least a little interested in the crime-fighting lifestyle. That's probably the reason why most folks _lived here._

It was the same way with Amity Park. Just about everyone had at least some kind of interest in the paranormal, and many newcomers came _just_ to catch sight of a ghost or two. Mainly the infamous Phantom, or the dreaded "Wisconsin Ghost" on occasion, but one didn't _live there_ if one didn't at least appreciate the supernatural in one way or another.

 _There's not much to see anymore, is there?_

Danny grit his teeth and clenched his fists in the pockets of his dark hoodie. He hated that voice in his head, his own voice, no matter how truthful that voice tended to be.

Right now, Marvin was leading Danny through the mess of picnic tables in the courtyard while babbling on about the town and the school. Danny, gripping an apple in one hand and a bottle of lemonade in the other, just nodded along while pretending like he cared, all the while glancing suspiciously at their surroundings. He studied the students they passed carefully, and took note of how the picnic tables were nailed to the cement. He didn't know how he felt about that. There didn't seem to be a need for it.

But if there's one thing for sure, the school's overall optimistic aura and cheerful vibe were _definitely_ ruffling Danny's feathers. Since when were schools so... _happy?_ Hence the name Happy Harbor High, but that didn't satisfy his overactive nerves.

By now, Marvin had lead Danny to a more secluded area of the courtyard, on the edge of campus. There was a single table under a massive apple tree, with the canopy of leaves drooping down on the slightly splintered wood and creating a strange quiet and an element of privacy Danny really only experienced in his own apartment in the dead of night.

He felt a shiver down his back. Yeah, Sam would have _loved_ this little lunch table. It was untouched, practically. It would have been downright euphoric to her.

Well, it was _almost_ untouched. Except for the few students sitting there already. A male and a female, they greeted Marvin with cheery smiles and peppy waves.

"Guys," Marvin announced, breaking away from the his short hug with the girl. "This is Danny. He's new here - he just moved from _California._ Danny, meet Wendy Harris and Mal Duncan. Wendy's on the cheer squad and Mal's on the football team."

"Hi!" Wendy said cheerfully, holding out a hand for Danny to shake. He reluctantly did so, taking in both of their appearances in the process. Wendy Harris wasn't one he was too concerned about - she was lithe and athletic, obviously a cheerleader. She had a frame reminiscent of Starr - toned curves, tight, angular edges and bony shoulders. She might be a flyer on the cheer team. She obviously had a lot of pride in her team too, because she was wearing the uniform. It wasn't too complicated, unlike Amity's gaudy attire. Just a simple sleeveless black shirt with a big, yellow H in the middle, and a matching striped skirt. She was wearing a white long sleeved dress shirt underneath, but that was probably to comply with the school dress code.

What really took Danny aback about her were her features. She had a slender face and a sharp jawline, softened slightly by reminiscent baby fat. Her short black hair stood out on all sides, kind of feathery and a little unruly. Her piercing blue eyes stared Danny up and down, and he felt himself squirm under her gaze. It wasn't her, herself that was putting Danny off at the moment... it was who she _looked like._

 _She looked just like Dani._

Of course, they weren't one in the same. Danny could spot the minuscule differences between the two - the lack of freckles on this girl's face, the shape of the cheekbones and the eyes (Danny remembered that Dani's were rounder), the point of the chin, the shape of the head, the differences in frame. This girl was not Dani, but the reminder was going to grate at his conscious until he could find another portal to the Ghost Zone. Dani was with Frostbite in the Far Frozen, last time Danny checked. But with the drama brewing in the human world and who her ghost form so closely resembled, Danny could never be too cautious when it came to his younger female clone.

Breaking away from the handshake, and ignoring the way she stared at him, Danny turned his eyes to the other person under the apple tree, Mal Duncan.

Mal was someone Danny immediately took note of. His eyes briefly glanced over him when he and Marvin walked up to the table, but now that Danny was actually taking the time to _look_ at the kid, he knew that this wasn't the type Danny wanted to mess with. Well, technically, Danny _probably_ could pick a fight with him and win if he _wanted to,_ but not without blowing his non-superpowered cover. This kid was _gigantic._ He was practically all muscle and dark skin under a skin-tight sky-blue muscle shirt with the House of El Coat of Arms printed across the front.

That's the Superman symbol, for those under-informed. Danny had a certain respect for superheroes and their chosen roles and symbols and, despite the inconvenience those heroes often caused him, went out of his way to pay his respect where his respect was due. He didn't like looking at the S-symbol like a marketing tool or a brand. He saw it as an emblem, or a physical representation of an idea. It was a little like his own, which he always, _always_ kept on him, in either form. Either on his printed chest as a ghost or as a pendant hung on the neckless he wore as a human, he made sure Sam's creation was there.

Danny's diverging from the point - which isn't anything new, if you've kept up with this story so far. Point being, this Mal kid was one Danny really had to watch out for. He reminded Danny a little of the Hulk - the pure-muscle rage monster counterpart of a do-gooder gamma radiation scientist Danny read all about in his comic books. The scientist, Dr. Banner, was a regular Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. For some reason, _The Incredible Hulk_ was one of Danny's favorite comic series in his collection, right after _Spider-Man_ and _Deadpool. Ironman_ wasn't too far down the list either, but for some reason Tony Stark's "multi-billionaire playboy philanthropist" façade put Danny off from enjoying the comic. Guess it reminded him of _another_ overly-cocky multi-billionaire he didn't particularly like.

Danny shot a weak smile at the overly-large teenager, taking note of the confidence in which Mal stood and the suspicious expression on his face. "Nice to meet you," Danny said pleasantly.

Marvin slipped onto the bench next to Wendy. " _C'mon_ Danno, pop a squat and stay a while! We ain't gonna bite."

Warily, Danny complied, sitting on the edge of the bench where he could keep Mal Duncan in his sights. He hated to admit it, but he was downright suspicious of their hospitable friendliness. He didn't recall anyone at Casper being this nice to any new kids (as much as it pained his conscious to admit). It was just... _odd_ to him.

" _Speaking_ of biting things," Marvin started with a snicker, planting his elbows on the table and gesturing to the three other teenagers. "Where's Conner and Megan? Usually they're the first ones here."

"Just left before you came," Mal stated in a deep, rasping voice. It had to have been at least three or four octaves lower than Danny's - and he was on the deeper side of tenor. Not that he would know what that meant, but Jazz used to sing.

Danny used to make fun of her for singing jazz. That was always her favorite genera.

 _Not anymore._

" _Gooootcha_ ," Marvin sighed deeply, that sigh turning into a yawn. He dropped his head onto the table with a resounding _bang._

"Long night?" Wendy asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Thunderstorms," he stated simply, his voice a dull mumble through the splintery wood.

Danny shot Wendy a questioning look.

"Marvin's afraid of thunderstorms," Wendy explained, waving a hand to her drained-looking friend.

"Not the _storms,"_ said friend mumbled, "just the _lightning."_

 _"_ Whatever," Wendy shrugged. "Probably kept him up all night."

"That's understandable," Danny said in Marvin's defense. He could certainly relate to the fear of lightning. He's had enough experience with it, after all. "Thunder's just noise. Lightning kills people."

"Rarely," Wendy scoffed playfully. "Like, one in a million. If you get struck by lightening, then you should go buy a lottery ticket because the odds are the same."

Danny opened his mouth to respond that _no,_ it _wasn't_ as rare as she thought, and it wasn't a subject to be taken lightly _,_ when he heard two other footsteps approach. They were quiet, Danny noted. Calculated.

Danny's head whipped around to the source of the footsteps far before they were perceptible to human ears. He blushed slightly and pretended like he didn't see the odd looks his new acquaintances were giving him.

He saw the silhouettes of the figures before they ducked under the canopy of the apple tree. Well, the first one ducked. The second one barreled right through it, ripping a few leaves off in the process. Danny could practically _hear_ Sam scoffing at the blunt disrespect of nature.

Danny immediately recognized them both. They were both in his Advanced Psychology class - the first being the athletic yet achingly familiar redheaded girl that kept staring him down the other day and the second being the brunet football-looking-jock-dude Danny immediately dismissed from being a threat. Although, from what Danny could decipher from his arrival, the kid had anger issues. He may have been big, but he was inexperienced. Easy to anger? Definitely.

"Hi all!" The redheaded girl chirped cheerily, plopping a tray onto the table. It was practically overflowing with sandwiches and salads, and she pushed one plate over to Marvin.

"Hey!" Marvin perked up happily at the plate of food. "You knew I'd forget to bring food!"

"There was a lightning storm last night, silly!" The redheaded girl laughed. "Of course you would!"

Marvin looked downright _flattered._ "Aw Megs, you know me so well!"

"'Course I do," the newly-dubbed 'Megs' commented. Danny assumed her name was "Megan," if Marvin's earlier statement was any indication. And if her name was Megan, then the brunet's name must have been Conner. Megan and Conner.

"Who's this?" Megan, or who Danny assumed was Megan, asked, nodding her head to Danny.

"Oh!" Marvin exclaimed, bringing his head up from his food to acknowledge the presence of his new 'friend'. "That's Danny," Marvin continued. "He's new. Danny, Megan and Conner. Megan and Conner, Danny." He gestured wildly at the three teenagers with his hands before digging into his sandwich and salad.

"Hi, Danny! It's nice to meet you." Megan said, holding out a hand for Danny to shake. God, just _how_ many humans did he have to come in contact with today? It was only a matter of time before someone found something out, at this rate.

Despite his hesitance though, Danny still took the redhead's hand. "And yourself," Danny responded. The girl's appearance made Danny a little quiet. She looked _so_ _much like Jazz._

"Say..." the girl started, drawing back her hand. She eyed Danny's hand warily, probably aware of the temperature difference. _Shit,_ Danny thought, panicking slightly. _She knows something's up._

Just when Danny was _sure_ that she was going to call him out for being below hypothermic, she turned the conversation around entirely. "Aren't you in our AP Psych class?"

Danny nodded dumbly, taken aback. "Uh, yeah. I am. I think." It was an intelligent response. He prided himself for it.

Megan gave him an excited smile. " _Oh,_ you're going to _love_ it. Ms. Connelly is _great._ And if you need any help catching up or anything, I'd be happy to help you out! Just ask."

Danny was a little baffled by the offer. Why did she care? And why was she so damn _chirper_ on a _Tuesday?_ "Sure thing," Danny said with a smile of his own.

" _Great!"_ Megan exclaimed, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I tutor Conner over here all the time. He's absolute _trash_ at psychology." She said the last part behind her hand in a mock stage-whisper.

Conner, in return, growled from his place next to Mal Duncan. "I heard that," He said, his voice a booming baritone.

"You were meant to!" Megan returned, blowing a kiss in his direction. Conner's mouth picked up in a smile, the malice gone from his features.

It was then that Danny remembered something. Wally mentioned the power-couple-that-wouldn't-admit-it, that being the cheerleader and the quarterback. Conner looked like he could be a quarterback, judging by the football jersey he was wearing, and Megan certainly had the peppy personality. Danny decided to test his theory. "So," He started, glancing at Megan and Conner, "Are you guys like... _together?"_

He knew the answer before they gave it.

And what they gave was a resounding " _No!"_

They totally were.

The other three teenagers cackled.

"We're not together," Megan told Danny, blushing furiously. "We're just... really, really close friends."

"Uh-huh," Danny said, disbelieving. "I was just curious. So... What are you guys interested in?" Danny was trying to make smalltalk now, and he was always an absolute terror at that.

But Megan grabbed onto that question and took off like a shot. "I'm _so_ glad you asked, Danny! Wendy and I are Bumblebees, that's the name of our cheerleading squad, and Mal and Conner are on the football team. Conner's a quarterback, Mal's a linebacker. You guys keep getting new recruitments, right?"

"Yeah," Mal responded, his voice creating nearly imperceptible vibrations on the wooden table. "We got one newbie, what's his name... Baxter? Dash Baxter, right. Tried out a few weeks ago. Kid's good. Coach wanna put him right as the starting quarterback, but that means benchin' this beast," Mal nudged a grouchy-looking Conner with his elbow. "For now, coach's got him alternating between fullback and wide receiver till he can find a good spot for 'em. Mixin' all the rest'a us up."

"Irritating as shit," Conner muttered, glaring intently at the splintery grooves of the wooden table.

Danny quirked an eyebrow and turned back to Megan. "What's up with grumpy-pants?"

She sighed in return, shooting Conner a counter-scowl for the glare he was shooting Danny. "It's been a long night. Lots of homework, lots of tests. You get it."

"You guys hang out a lot or something?" Her words reminded Danny of his relationships with Sam and Tucker and the ever-precent ache in his chest.

"You could say that. We live in the same apartment complex. We're neighbors."

"It's a good thing you're friends, then."

She broke out in a lighthearted laugh. "You got _that_ right! It sure would be awkward if we _weren't!"_

From across the table, Danny saw Conner crack a grin.

Marvin, Megan, Mal, Conner, and Wendy - it was an odd bunch, that's one thing Danny knew for sure. But he was also beginning to realize that maybe the "getting friends" aspect of his staying in Happy Harbor wasn't as hard as his overactive imagination was making it out to be. Finding _alliances,_ though? That was a different story. He'd have to work on that. But this seemed like a trustworthy bunch, along with a suddenly-friendly Dash Baxter. Danny would have to take these relationships and see where they led, if they led anywhere at all.

For some reason, somewhere in the back of his mind and buried deep in what he _thought_ was the farthest corner of his imagination, he thought for _sure_ he heard Sam give a triumphant laugh. In his mind's eye, he could imagine her smile.

With that image clear as day before his eyes, he tried to smile too.

That's what she would have wanted. And Danny tried to ignore how it felt so incredibly, impossibly fake.

* * *

A/N: Hey all, I'm back. Took a little break, life got busy, you're gonna have to give me a few days to get caught up on everything (stories, messages, reviews, etc). But as far as this story goes...

...Now we've got a nervous-wreck Danny making friends at Happy Harbor. I realized after I threw the Team members in last chapter that if I were in Danny's shoes, I'd straight up leave right then and there. Since we can't have that, I gave him some incentive to stay. By the way, Wendy/Dani = no relation. They just look the same and I knew that having someone _else_ who looks like someone from Danny's past would cause him some angst. I also brought up Dani because people keep mentioning her in the reviews. I find it likely that Danny would want her out of the human world as much as possible, if not for her power level, then _definitely_ for her resemblance to Phantom.

Also, I like to think that Marvel comics would appear in the DC Universe as an actual comic book series and vice versa. In this story, Ironman, Spider Man, The Hulk, all of them are fictional.

I am also well-aware of how much I am mentioning Sam. There's a reason for that, you just have to read closely and think about it. Also disclaimer, i'm not super well-versed in YJ's characters or their voices, but I tried my best with what I remembered from the show.

Other characters are starting to make longer and more relevant appearances... Wonder when that'll cause trouble ;)

Please leave your thoughts in the reviews, I'd gladly appreciate it.

Peace,

Rookey


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